George  W ashington  Flowers 
Memorial  Collection 

DUKE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

ESTABLISHED  BY  THE 
FAMILY  OF 

COLONEL  FLOWERS 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


https://archive.org/details/fromdixietocanad01john 


* 


. 


H.  U.  JOHNSON. 


FROM 

DIXIE  to  CANADA 

Romances  and  Realities 

OF  THE 

UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD 

BY 

H.  U.  JOHNSON 

AUTHOR  OF  “SEVENTEEN  SEVENTY-SIX  AND  OTHER  POEMS  ” 
AND  “ OBED  IN  THE  GREAT  CO-PARTNERSHIP.” 

VOL.  I 

FIRST  THOUSAND 


ORWELL,  OHIO 
H.  U.  JOHNSON 

BUFFALO 

CHARLES  WELLS  MOULTON 
1894 


Copyright,  1894, 

By  H.  U.  JOHNSON. 
(all  rights  reserved.) 


Printed  by  Charles  Wells  Moulton,  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 


u 


I 


DEDICATION. 

TO  the  millions  of  happy  grand- children  of  a gener- 
ation fast  leaving  the  stage  of  action , and  who 
must  get  their  knowledge  of  the  Rebellion  and  its  causes 
from  the  lips  of  those  who  saw  and  participated  or  from 
the  pages  of  history , as  we , the  grand-parents , got  ours 
of  the  Revolution  from  those  long  since  passed  away , 
and  from  the  written  records  of  that  thrilling  period , 
this  little  volume  of  unique  but  wonderful  history  is 
smcerely  and  most  affectionately  dedicated  by  one  of  the 
Grandfathers . 


PREFACE. 


THE  years  intervening  since  the  abolition  of 
American  slavery  leave  a majority  of  our  peo- 
people  ignorant  of  its  workings,  and  of  matters 
connected  with  it,  except  as  they  are  gleaned  from 
the  pages  of  history,  or  from  the  lips  of  those  now 
grown  old. 

It  is  not  the  purpose  of  this  little  volume  to  discuss 
the  history  of  the  “peculiar  institution”  in  detail, 
but  simply  to  give  so  much  of  it  as  will  make  appre- 
ciable the  cause  for  another  one  equally  “ peculiar,” 
known  for  the  last  twenty  years  of  its  existence  as  the 
Underground  Railroad, — a name  for  a mode  of 
operation,  and  not  of  a corporation  or  material  object. 

During  the  years  of  its  operation,  secrecy  was  a 
cardinal,  an  imperative  principle  of  its  management, 
as  the  following  pages  will  make  apparent.  On  the 
breaking  out  of  the  War  of  the  Rebellion,  thus  putting 
an  end  to  its  operations,  every  other  subject  was  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  excitement  of  the  great  struggle,  and 
subsequently  in  that  of  Reconstruction.  Thus  the 
Road  dropped  measurably  out  of  sight,  leaving  but 
meager  reports  and  archives  to  tell  the  story  of  its 
working. 


The  promptings  of  a desire  to  leave  to  posterity 
some  realistic  record  of  this,  one  of  the  most  won- 
derful' and  thrilling  features  of  our  national  history, 


394513 


VI 


PREFACE. 


no  parallel  to  which  is  afforded  in  the  annals  of  time, 
must  be  the  excuse  for  these  pages.  During  the 
eighties,  the  writer,  who  had  lived  amid  its  excite- 
ments for  years,  and  was  more  or  less  familiar  with 
the  writings  of  Coffin,  Pettit,  the  Clarkes  and  others, 
undertook  a systematic  research  into  the  matter,  the 
result  of  which  was  the  accumulation  of  a large  fund 
of  incident  and  information  pertaining  to  the  Road, 
much  of  which  was  published  in  the  Home  Magazine 
between  the  years  1883  and  1889,  inclusive.  Those 
articles,  in  part,  carefully  revised,  are  now  placed  be- 
fore the  reader  in  this  more  permanent  form,  with 
the  hope  that  they  may  receive  the  generous  approval 
of  an  appreciative  public. 

The  Author. 


Orwell,  Ohio,  May  20,  1894. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Introduction 9 

CHAPTER  I. 

Jo  Norton 19 

Lavinia  28 

A Ruse  36 

The  Original  “Jerry” 48 

A Cool  Woman 52 

CHAPTER  II. 

Jack  Watson 54 

CHAPTER  III. 

Uncle  Jake 85 

CHAPTER  VI. 

George  Green,  or  Constancy  Rewarded.  98 

CHAPTER  V. 

How  Sol.  Jones  was  Left 124 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Edward  Howard 132 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Plucky  Charley 152 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Statie  Lines 164 

CHAPTER  IX. 

George  Gray 173 


I ! M JONES  IN  THE  BLACKSMITH  SHOP. 


INTRODUCTION. 


HE  quiet  of  a midsummer  night  had  settled  down 


1 over  the  city  of  Washington,  when,  in  August, 
1839,  a dusky  form  came,  with  stealthy  tread,  from 
among  some  buildings  not  far  away,  and  cautiously 
approached  the  eastern  entrance  to  the  Capitol.  Lay- 
ing his  hand  upon  the  cold  steps  in  the  shadow  of 
the  great  building,  Jim  Jones,  a colored  boy  of 
about  seventeen,  attentively  listened  as  if  in  expec- 
tation of  some  preconcerted  signal. 

He  had  waited  but  a moment  thus,  when  the  hand 
of  a patrol  was  laid  heavily  upon  his  shoulder  and 
the  rough  query,  “ What  does  this  mean,  you  black 
rascal  ? ” fell  upon  his  ear. 

“ Dunno,  Massa,”  was  the  reply  of  the  startled  boy. 

“ Don’t  know,  you  black  imp  ? ” 

“ No,  Massa,  dunno  what  fo’  I was  hea.” 

“ Well,,  you  know,  you  young  nigger,  you  have  no 
business  here  at  this  hour  of  the  night.” 

“Yes,  Massa,  I knovTed  de  night  am  for  vrhite 
folks,  and  I jus,  cum  for  to  see — ” 

“ Some  d — d abolitionist  who  is  trying  to  get  you 
away.” 

“No,  no,  Massa.” 

“ Well,  come  along  and  we  shall  see,”  saying  which 
he  rudely  hurried  the  boy  away  to  a place  of  safe 
keeping. 


IO 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


In  the  early  morning  Jim  was  recognized  by  his 
master,  who  vainly  tried  to  extort  from  him  by  ques- 
tioning the  cause  of  his  nocturnal  ramble.  Failing 
in  this,  the  boy  was  taken  to  a blacksmith  shop  and 
his  thumbs  placed  end  to  end  in  the  jaws  of  a vice. 

“ Now,”  said  the  master,  “ tell  me  why  you  were 
abroad  last  night.” 

“ I dunno,”  replied  Jim. 

A half  turn  of  the  screw,  and  a groan  of  pain  es- 
caped the  boy;  another  turn  and  he  writhed  in 
agony. 

“ Now  you  black  son  of  a b ch,  why  were  you 

at  the  Capitol  last  night  ? ” 

“ O Lor’,  Massa,  a white  man  tol’  me  I should 
come.” 

“ What  did  he  want  of  you?” 

“Fo’  to  go  norf ’.” 

“ And  so  you  were  going?” 

“ Y -e-s — Massa — I-was-fo’-to-go.  ” 

“ How?” 

“ On  a railroad  undah  de  groun’.” 

“ Under  the  ground?  ” 

“ Yes,  Massa,  so  the  gem ’an  said.  He  was  jus’ 
cornin’  to  open  de  way,  when  Massa  da’  cotched 
me.” 

“ Who  was  he? ” 

“ Dunno,  Massa.” 

Another  turn  of  the  screw,  and  in  the  agony  of 
despair  the  boy  yelled,  “ Dunno,  dunno,  Massa, 
dunno,”  and  swooned  away. 


INTRODUCTION. 


1 1 

After  resuscitation  the  torture  was  again  applied, 
but  nothing  farther  was  elicited,  as  the  boy  con- 
tinued to  aver  he  had  never  heard  the  name  of  the 
man  who  was  to  lead  him  ; and,  indeed,  he  had  met 
him  only  in  the  dark. 

Though  for  years  slaves  had  from  time  to  time 
been  stealing  away  from  the  kind  attentions  of  their 
masters,  and,  indeed,  very  frequently  of  late,  yet 
never  before  had  the  latter  dreamed  that  their  “ chat- 
tel went  by  subterranean  transit,  and  the  theme  be- 
came one  of  such  absorbing  interest  that,  when  two 
months  later  five  prominent  slaves  escaped  from  the 
city  in  a single  night,  a Washington  morning  paper 
heralded  the  matter  before  the  world  for  the  -first 
time  as  follows: — 

“underground  railroad! 

A Mystery  Not  Yet  Solved.” 

“The  abolition  incendiaries  are  undermining,  not  only 
our  domestic  institutions,  but  the  very  foundations  of  our 
Capitol.  Our  citizens  will  recollect  that  the  boy  Jim,  who 
was  arrested  last  August,  while  lurking  about  the  Capi- 
tol, would  disclose  nothing  until  he  was  subject  to  torture  by 
screwing  his  fingers  in  a blacksmith’s  vice,  when  he  acknowl- 
edged that  he  was  to  have  been  sent  north  by  railroad  ; was 
to  have  started  near  the  place  where  he  stood  when  dis- 
covered by  the  patrol.  He  refused  to  tell  who  was  to  aid 
him — said  he  did  not  know — and  most  likely  he  did  not. 
Nothing  more  could  be  got  from  him  until  they  gave  the 
screw  another  turn,  when  he  said  : ‘ The  railroad  goes 

under  ground  all  the  way  to  Boston .’  Our  citizens  are  losing 
all  their  best  servants.  Some  secret  Yankee  arrangement 
has  been  contrived  by  which  they  ‘ stampede  ’ from  three  to 


12 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


eight  at  a time,  and  no  trace  of  them  can  be  found  until  they 
reach  the  interior  of  New  York  or  the  New  England  States. 
They  can  not  have  gone  by  railroad,  as  every  station  is  closely 
watched  by  a secret  police,  yet  there  is  no  other  conveyance 
by  which  a man  can  reach  Albany  in  two  days.  That  they 
have  done  so,  is  now  clearly  demonstrated.  Colonel  Hardy, 
a tobacco  planter  residing  in  the  District,  about  five  miles 
from  the  city,  lost  five  more  slaves  last  Sunday  evening. 
They  were  pursued  by  an  expert  slave  catcher,  but  no  trace 
of  them  was  discovered.  The  search  was  abandoned  this 
morning,  the  Colonel  having  received  a paper  called  the 
Liberty  Press,  printed  in  Albany,  with  the  following  articie 
so  marked  as  to  claim  his  attention: 

“ ‘Arrived,  this  morning,  by  our  fast  train,  three  men  and 
two  women.  They  were  claimed  as  slaves  by  Colonel 
Hardy,  of  the  District  of  Columbia,  but  became  dissatisfied 
with  the  Colonel’s  ways  of  bucking  Harry,  making  love 
to  Nancy  and  other  similar  displays  of  masterly  affection,  and 
left  the  old  fellow’s  premises  last  Sunday  evening,  arriving 
at  our  station  by  the  quickest  passage  on  record.’ 

“The  article  recites  many  incidents  that  have  transpired 
in  the  Colonel’s  family,  that  correspond  so  exactly  with  facts 
that  the  Colonel  says  : 1 Nobody  but  Kate  could  have  told 

that  story  ! ’ Said  article  closes  by  saying  : ‘ Now,  Colonel 
H.,  please  give  yourself  no  trouble  about  these  friends  of 
yours,  for  they  will  be  safe  under  the  protection  of  the  British 
Lion  before  this  meets  your  eyes.  ’ ’ ’ 

The  term  which  had  been  given  to  poor  Jim,  in 
confidence,  as  the  means  by  which  he  was  to  make 
his  escape  from  bondage,  and  extorted  from  him  by 
torture,  having  thus  been  given  to  the  world  from 
the  city  of  Washington,  became  henceforth  the  uni- 
versal appelation  for  a corporation  which,  for  more 
than  twenty  years  thereafter,  extended  its  great  trunk 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


lines  across  all  the  northern  states  from  Mason  and 
Dixon’s  line  and  the  Ohio  River  to  the  Queen’s 
Dominion,  and  its  ramifications  far  into  the  southerru- 
states.  It  was  most  efficiently  officered,  and  had  its 
side  tracks,  connections  and  switches ; its  stations 
and  eating  houses  all  thoroughly  well  recognized  by 
the  initiated  ; its  station  agents  and  conductors,  men 
undaunted  in  danger  and  unswerving  in  their  ad- 
herence to  principle ; its  system  of  cypher  dis- 
patches, tokens  and  nomenclature  which  no  attache 
ever  revealed  except  to  those  having  a right  to  receive 
them,  and  its  detective  force  characterized  by  a 
shrewdness  in  expedients  and  a versatility  of  strategy 
which  attached  to  any  mere  money  making  enter- 
prise would  have  put  “ millions  in  it.”  It  received 
the  support  of  men  and  women  from  every  class, 
sect,  and  party,  though  from  some  more  than  from 
others;  its  character  was  engraven,  as  by  a pen  of 
fire,  in  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  men,  burning 
deeper  and  deeper,  until  finally  abrogated  in  that 
grand  emancipation  proclamation  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln, when  it  was  found  that  its  stock,  always  un- 
watered but  by  tears,  had  yielded  an  incomputable 
percentage  in  the  freedom  secured  to  over  thirty-six 
thousand  fugitives  from  human  bondage,  and  em- 
bodied in  houses,  lands,  schools,  churches  and  social' 

and  domestic  happiness.  - 

Now  that  the  track  is  all  pulled  up  ; that  the  roll- 
ing stock  has  disappeared  ; that  most  of  the  operators 
and  passengers  have  gone  down  into  silence  or  are 


H 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


dwelling  in  forgetfulness  of  accumulating  years,  and 
that  only  a few  of  the  old  stations  remain  as  they 
were,  a new  generation  pertinently  inquires,  “ What 
called  such  a road  into  existence  and  how  were  its 
gigantic  operations  so  successfully  and  yet  so  secretly 
carried  on  ? ” 

To  the  first  of  these  questions  it  may  be  replied 
that  the  history  of  American  slavery  is  older  than 
the  story  of  Plymouth  Rock.  In  the  year  1619  a 
cargo  of  Africans,  kidnapped  on  the  coast  of  the 
“ Dark  Continent,’1  was  sold  from  the  deck  of  a 
Dutch  man-of-war  at  Jamestown,  Va.,  to  be  used  in 
the  cultivation  of  tobacco  along  the  river. 

At  that  time  very  little  was  thought  about  the 
enormity  of  human  slavery.  The  labor  proved  re- 
munerative, and  the  institution  spread  over  the  origi- 
nal colonies,  with  little  or  no  question,  so  that  at  the 
breaking  out  of  the  Revolution  there  were  500,000 
bondmen,  a standing  menace  to  the  cause  of  freedom, 
and  yet  technically  said  to  be  “ armed  in  the  holy 
cause  of  liberty.” 

On  the  adoption  of  the  constitution  in  1787,  pub- 
lic sentiment  had  become  so  strong  against  the  Afri- 
can slave  trade  that  provision  was  made  for  its  aboli- 
tion in  1808.  Persistent  effort  was  also  made,  par- 
ticularly by  the  Quakers,  for  the  ultimate  abolition 
of  slavery  itself,  but  without  avail,  as  it  was  claimed 
by  its  apologists  that  it  would  ultimately  die  of  its 
own  accord — a prophecy  in  some  sense  fulfilled, 
though  in  a manner  all  undreamed  by  those  who 
made  it. 


INTRODUCTION. 


15 


Though  Anti-slavery  Societies  had  long  been  in 
vogue,  of  one  of  which  Benjamin  Franklin  had  been 
president,  it  was  found  by  the  census  of  1800  that 
the  country  contained  893,000  slaves.  From  this 
time  forward  one  after  another  of  the  Northern 
States  abolished  it,  until  it  finally  disappeared  from 
New  York  last  of  all,  July  4th,  1827.  In  the  mean- 
time it  was  strengthened  in  the  South.  The  inven- 
tion of  the  cotton  gin  and  the  extensive  manufacture  of 
sugar  in  the  Gulf  States,  made  the  rearing  of  slaves 
in  those  farther  north  very  lucrative,  and  slave  marts 
were  set  up  in  many  of  their  cities  and  towns  to 
which  men,  women  and  children  were  brought  and 
sold  upon  the  auction  block  and  at  private  sale. 

The  slaves  thus  purchased  in  Maryland,  Virginia, 
Kentucky  and  elsewhere  for  the  more  southern  mar- 
kets were  either  driven  across  the  country  like  so  many 
cattle,  or,  if  more  convenient,  taken  down  the  Ohio 
and  Mississippi  on  steam-boats  or  in  flats,  all  those 
deemed  likely  to  give  trouble  being  handcuffed  to- 
gether across  a coflfle  chain,  thus  constituting  a 
“ coffle.” 

On  their  arrival  at  the  place  of  destination,  they 
were  more  or  less  jaded  and  warm,  and  hence  un- 
marketable until  properly  fitted  up.  To  facilitate 
this,  buildings  or  “ pens  ’’  were  provided  where  they 
w’ere  well  fed  and  given  liberal  rations  of  whiskey. 
Under  the  management  of  some  genial  dealer,  they 
were  induced  to  tell  stories,  sing  songs  and  make 
merry.  In  this  way  they  were  soon  recuperated  and 


1 6 FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

ready  for  the  ordeals  of  another  sale  in  which  they 
were  subjected  to  much  the  same  scrutiny  of  body 
and  limb  that  is  bestowed  upon  a horse  when  the 
person  would  ascertain  its  physical  condition. 

To  escape  this  degradation  and  the  hardships  of 
the  southern  plantations,  the  more  intelligent  and 
hardy  of  the  slave  population  early  began  to  flee  to 
the  free  states  as  an  asylum  from  cruel  bondage.  As 
if  in  anticipation  of  this,  the  constitution  had  pro- 
vided for  their  return,  and  under  its  provisions  many 
were  restored  to  their  masters,  through  the  cupidity 
of  sordid  northern  men,  for  the  rewards  offered. 

Finding  so  many  of  their  chattels  escaping  and  the 
sentiment  against  their  return  growing  stronger  and 
stronger,  the  southern  people,  with  the  aid  of  abettors 
at  the  north,  succeeded  in  1850,  in  securing  the  pas- 
sage of  the  Fugitive  Slave-law,  which  imposed  heavy 
fines  and  even  imprisonment  for  in  any  way  aiding 
a fugitive  from  slavery  to  escape.  By  its  provisions 
every  man  at  the  North  was  virtually  made  a slave- 
catcher. 

Canada  now  became  the  goal  of  the  fugitive,  and 
to  its  safe  retreat  thousands  escaped,  and  yet  so  suc- 
cessful was  the  business  of  slave  culture  that  in  1860 
the  whole  number  of  persons  held  as  mere  chattels, 
without  a vested  right  in  land,  or  home,  or  wife,  or 
husband,  or  child,  or  life,  even,  that  might  not  be 
served  by  the  will  of  the  master,  amounted  to  3,953,- 
000  souls.  The  bitterness  of  sectional  feeling  engen- 
dered by  such  a state  of  affairs,  and  the  intense 


INTRODUCTION. 


17 


activity  of  nerve  and  intellect  called  forth  thereby, 
can  never  be  duly  appreciated  except  by  those  who 
were  active  participants  in  the  affairs  of  ten  years 
ante  bellum. 

The  second  question,  and,  also,  many  points 
covered  by  the  first,  will  be  best  answered  by  follow- 
ing the  thread  of  these  “ Romances  and  Realties  of 
the  Underground  Railrood,”  gathered  as  they  are 
from  personal  observation,  extensive  reading,  visita- 
tions along  many  of  the  old  lines,  and  numerous 
interviews  and  extensive  correspondence  with  those 
heroic  men  and  women  who  dared  their  fortunes  and 
their  personal  liberty  in  the  cause  of  humanity  and 
right,  still  lingering  among  us,  as,  also,  with  many  a 
passenger  over  this  truly  wonderful  thoroughfare. 


REFUGEES  IN  WASHINGTON  CHURCHYARD. 


CHAPTER  I. 


JO  NORTON. 

I. 

SO  many  and  varied  have  been  the  changes  of 
half  a century,  and  so  rapid  the  growth  of  the 
city  in  the  past  twenty-five  years,  that  few  of  the 
present  inhabitants  of  Washington,  and  less  of  its 
old-time  frequenters,  now  ever  think  of  the  cemetery 
that  skirted  the  stage  road  leading  north  from  the 
city.  True,  in  those  by-gone  days  it  was  a popular 
burial  place,  even  for  the  first  families  of  the  capital, 
but  like  many  another  “ silent  city  ” it  long  since  fell 
into  disuse,  and  consequently  became  for  years  the 
most  desirable  place  near  the  city  for  an  underground 
railroad  station,  and  to  such  use  it  was  assidiously 
appropriated. 

In  this  solitary  place,  on  a quiet  Sabbath  evening 
of  October,  1839,  there  was  heard  just  as  the  last  faint 
twilight  trembled  on  the  western  horizon  a low,  dis- 
tinct whistle.  Immediately  there  arose  from  among 
the  growth  of  bushes  and  from  behind  already  re- 
clining headstones  five  dusky  forms,  actuated  evi- 
dently by  the  same  impulse.  The  whistle  was 
repeated,  and  the  forms  cautiously  approached  the 
point  whence  it  proceeded,  and  there  gathered  in 


20 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


presence  of  a stranger  to  them  all,  but  with  no  pre- 
vious knowledge  of  each  other’s  intent,  though  all  of 
them  were  the  property  of  the  same  man,  Colonel 
Hardy,  a tobacco  planter  of  the  District  of  Columbia, 
as  previously  stated  in  the  “ Introduction  ” to  these 
“ Romances  and  Realities.” 

The  first  exclamations  of  surprise  over,  their  un- 
known companion  proceeded  to  give  them  the 
instructions  for  the  night,  after  allaying  their  super- 
stitious fears,  that  they  were  to  sink  into  the  earth 
for  a time,  and  be  under  the  conduct  of  invisible 
personages.  Indeed,  so  far  from  that  being  the  case 
they  soon  found  very  much  depended  upon  their 
own  physical  exertion.  No  sinking  down  into  the 
ground  among  the  dead,  no  sojourn  among  spooks 
and  ghosts,  impressions  that  had  almost  gotten  the 
better  of  their  thirst  for  freedom,  was  to  be  theirs. 
On  the  contrary  they  were  to  take  at  once  to  the 
pike  and  follow  it  until  they  came  to  the  said  road, 
which  was  then  to  be  their  pathway,  only  turning 
out  to  pass  around  villages  and  stations  until  they 
came  to  a man  standing  in  the  track  who  should 
signal  them  by  the  simple  name  “ Ben.”  To  him 
they  were  to  yield  themselves  implicitly. 

Seeing  the  little  company  once  fairly  started,  the 
stranger  returned  to  the  city,  and  as  he  passed  the 
postoffice  deposited  therein  a letter  addressed, 

“ JOHN  JONES,  Esq., 

Albany, 

N.  Y” 


JO  NORTON. 


21 


Leaving  this  missive  and  the  fugitives  to  pursue 
their  respective  journeys,  we  pause  to  inquire  into 
the  personalities  of  the  latter.  They  were  named, 
respectively,  Nancy,  Kate,  Robert,  Harry  and  Jo,  or 
more  complete,  Jo  Norton. 

As  has  been  said,  they  were  the  property  of  one 
man,  and  when  not  needed  on  the  plantation,  were 
hired  out  in  the  city.  Harry  was  recognized  among 
his  fellows  as  a man  of  spirit  and  ability ; but  the 
latter  quality  never  saved  him  from  the  frequent 
“buckings”  engendered  by  the  tx?o  free  play  of  the 
former.  Nancy,  an  octaroon,  was  well  formed,  about 
twenty  years  of  age,  and  according  to  Kate,  who  had 
a spontaneous  gift  of  gossip,  a special  favorite  of  the 
“ Kunnel.” 

Jo  Norton  was  a sprighty,  intelligent  fellow,  and 
had  a wife  named  Mary,  who,  with  their  little  boy, 
was  the  property  of  a Mr.  Judson,  residing  in  the 
city.  In  his  boyhood  Jo  had  been  continually  em- 
ployed upon  the  plantation,  but  after  he  was  sixteen 
was  engaged  at  a hotel  during  the  winter  for  several 
years.  For  a long  time  in  this  place  it  was  his 
special  duty  to  wait  upon  Daniel  Webster  at  table 
and  otherwise.  It  was  whilst  thus  employed  that 
he  became  acquainted  with  and  won  Mary,  who  had 
the  care  of  the  great  statesman’s  rooms.  During  the 
summer,  the  Colonel,  when  reasonably  good  natured, 
allowed  Jo  to  visit  his  wife  and  child  once  in  two 
weeks,  on  Sunday.  When  too  choleric  to  grant  his 
“ chattel  ” this  indulgence,  a pass  was  readily  secured 


22 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


from  the  old  man’s  daughter,  who  was  his  private 
secretary,  and  with  whom  Jo  was  a great  favorite. 
In  these  visits  the  possibility  of  an  escepe,  more 
especially  for  the  sake  of  their  boy,  was  frequently 
discussed,  though  no  plan  was  ever  perfected. 

One  evening  whilst  returning  from  one  of  these 
visitations,  Jo  fell  in  company  with  a gentleman 
whose  manner  so  impressed  him  that  he  asked  if  he 
were  not  from  “ de  Norf.”. 

“ Yes.  from  Massachusetts,”  said  the  stranger. 

“Wy,  Massa,  dat  am  de  home  ob  de  great  Dan’l 
Webster.” 

“ Yes ; I know  him  very  well.” 

“ Yes,  Massa,  an’  doan  dis  chile  knows  dat  great 
man  to?” 

“ How  is  that  ? ” 

“Wy,  Massa,  doan  I stan’  ’hind  his  chaah  all  dese 
winters  wen  him  comes  to  Congress  ? ” 

“ Ah,  I see.  But  wouldn’t  you  like  to  go  north 
and  be  free  ? ” 

“ Lor’  Massa,  dat  was  wat  Mary  and  I talks  ’bout 
dis  blessed  day.” 

“ Who  is  Mary?  ” 

Mary  am  my  wife,  sah,  and  James  am  my  little 
boy.  Da’longs  to  anuder  man.” 

“A  wife  and  child!  ” said  the  stranger  half  mus- 
ingly. “ Well  my  good  fellow,  we  will  see  what  can 
be  done,  but  we  must  talk  no  more  now.  Meet  me 
on  the  corner  of  “ P ” and  the  Avenue  two  weeks 
from  to-day  at  noon.” 


JO  NORTON. 


23 


“ Yes  sah,”  and  the  two  parted. 

Two  weeks  passed,  and,  as  agreed,  the  parties  met, 
the  one  readily  assuming  the  air  of  a southern  gen- 
tleman and  the  other  instinctively  falling  into  the 
role  of  his  servant.  Thus  they  passed  on  until  a 
quiet  place  was  reached,  when  it  wTas  agreed  that  Jo 
should  take  a designated  place  in  the  old  cemetery 
three  weeks  from  that  night,  but  that  Mary  and  the 
child  should  be  left  in  the  city  till  a fitting  way  for 
their  escape  presented  itself.  In  the  mean  time  the 
other  parties  had  been  separately  interviewed,  and 
assigned  their  several  hiding  places,  and  given  the 
signal  which  would  call  them  into  the  presence  of  a 
stranger.  Thus  it  was  that  they  came  together  un- 
awares. 

II. 

Once  upon  the  public  highway  the  little  party 
struck  out  briskly  for  the  railroad  upon  which  they 
turned  their  faces  towards  Baltimore,  and  following 
their  instructions  were  making  fine  progress,  when, 
about  midnight,  as  they  were  passing  around  a vil- 
lage the  heavens  became  suddenly  overcast  with 
clouds,  and  for  an  hour  or  more  they  wandered  in 
uncertainty.  A halt  being  called,  a lively  discussion 
based  upon  five  different  opinions  arose,  and  how  it 
might  have  terminated  no  one  can  tell  had  not  the 
heavens  just  then  cleared  up,  enabling  Harry,  who 
was  both  conductor  to  and  astronomer  for  the  train, 
to  get  their  bearings  from  “ de  ol’  norf.”  So  much 


24 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


time  had  thus  been  lost  that  daybreak  was  just  be- 
ginning to  tinge  the  east  when  the  mystical  word 
“ Ben  ” fell  from  the  lips  of  a man  standing  upon 
the  track,  whom  they  at  once  followed  for  some  dis- 
tance into  a corn-field,  where  he  removed  several 
bundels  from  a stack  of  corn-fodder,  and  the  two 
women  entered  a “ dodger  ” apartment,  whilst  the 
men  were  similarly  secreted  a little  farther  on. 

A thirty  mile  walk  had  given  them  a good  appe- 
tite for  the  bountiful  breakfast  provided,  after  par- 
taking of  which  they  lay  down  and  slept  soundly, 
whilst  “ Old  Ben,”  a free  negro  who  had  been  fur- 
nished the  means  to  rent  and  till  this  field  and  ar- 
range it  as  a “ way  station,”  kept  constant  vigil  and 
obliterated  their  tracks  by  husking  corn  and  care- 
fully drawing  the  stocks  over  them. 

III. 

Morning  came  in  the  city,  and  soon  the  absence  of 
the  servants  from  their  employers  was  reported  at 
the  plantation,  where  the  non-appearance  of  Jo  had 
already  caused  the  Colonel  to  give  his  daughter  a 
special  cursing  for  “letting  that  d — d nigger,  Jo,  have 
a pass.”  Hounds  and  hunters  were  at  once  called 
into  requisition,  but  all  in  vain.  All  about  the 
country  was  scoured  and  searched,  but  Uncle  Ben’s 
field  was  so  public  and  he  so  honest,  that  no  one 
thought  of  troubling  it,  or  him. 

Night  came,  and  under  cover  of  the  first  hour  of 
darkness  the  two  women  were  taken  in  charge  by  a 


JO  NORTON. 


25 


man  who  led  them  rapidly  along  the  railroad  track 
till  they  came  to  a road  where  a carriage  received 
them  and  they  were  driven  rapidly  into  the  city  of 
Baltimore  and  there  carefully  secreted.  Scarcely 
had  they  departed  when  a pack  of  hounds  came  into 
the  field,  and,  after  scenting  around  for  some  time, 
struck  their  track  and  were  off  in  pursuit  with  such 
a wild  scream  as  to  waken  the  men  from  their  quiet 
slumber. 

Meanwhile  the  letter  addressed  to  Mr.  Jones  was 
speeding  on  its  way,  and  in  due  time  on  an  editorial 
derived  therefrom,  the  compositors  in  the  office  of 
the  Liberty  Press  at  Albany  were  busy,  and  on  Fri- 
day Col.  Hardy  received  a marked  copy  of  that  paper 
which  informed  him  that  his  “ chattels  ” arrived  safe 
in  Albany  on  Tuesday  evening,  and  of  course  all 
farther  effort  for  their  recovery  was  stopped,  though 
the  atmosphere  was  for  some  time  blue  from  the  ef- 
fects of  the  forcible  vocabulary  which  this  piece  of 
news,  manufactured  specially  for  a southern  market, 
eliminated  from  the  old  Colonel’s  tongue. 

IV. 

All  iminent  danger  from  direct  pursuit  being  now 
over,  early  on  Saturday  evening  Ben  led  the  boys 
forth  and  placed  them  in  charge  of  a sprightly  colored 
boy  about  thirteen  years  of  age,  whom  they  were  to 
keep  constantly  in  sight  as  they  passed  through 
Baltimore,  and,  as  he  bestowed  on  them  a little 
money,  he  said : “ Now,  boys,  follah  yer  guide,  and 


26 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


feah  no  danjah,  and  de  good  Lor’  bress  you  and 
bring  you  safe  to  freedom.” 

With  nimble  steps  they  passed  over  the  road  to  the 
city,  and  there  stopped  for  a short  time  at  a meeting 
of  colored  Methodists,  of  which  faith  were  Jo  and 
Harry,  and  joined  lustily  in  the  “ Hallilujahs  ” and 
songs  of  praise.  The  meeting  over,  they  fell  in  with 
the  departing  congregetion,  and  as  they  passed 
through  the  principal  streets  were  veciforous  in  their 
praise  of  “the  pow’fu’  preachin’  ob  dat  ’sidin’  eldah, 
and  de  snipshus  singin’  ob  de  yaller  gal  wid  de  red 
rib’n,”  stopping  occasionally  to  buy  a few  nuts  or 
apples  at  some  grocer’s  stand,  ever  keeping  their 
little  woolly  headed  conductor  in  sight,  and  before 
the  hour  forbidding  the  presence  of  colored  people 
on  the  streets,  were  beyond  the  city  limits,  and  again 
in  company  with  Kate  and  Nancy,  who  had  been 
brought  to  a place  of  rendezvous  by  a gentleman 
who  proceeded  to  give  the  party  specific  instructions 
for  the  night.  This  done,  fleetly  they  sped  forward 
as  directed  until  well  towards  day-dawn,  when  con- 
ductor Harry  espied  twc  flickering  lights  placed  side 
by  side  in  an  upper  window,  and  exclaimed : “ Bress 

de  Lor’  dah  am  de  sign  of  rest.” 

“Yes,  bress  de  Lor’,  O my  sou’,”  ejaculated  the 
thoroughly  wearied  Kate,  “an  if  dis  be  de  unner 
groun’  railroad  whar  ebery  one  furnish  his  cah  his- 
self,  I’d  radder  ride  wid  ol’  Lijah  in  a charyot  ob  fiah.” 

“ Hush,  honey,  what  foah  you  complain  ? dis  am 
gwine  ober  Jordan  to  de  lan’  ob  res  ’.” 


JO  NORTON. 


27 


“ Yes,  an’  Jordan  am  a hard  road  to  trabel, 

shu ” but  the  sentence  was  abruptly  broken  by 

the  clear  enunciation  of  “ Thee  will  tarry  here  for  the 
Sabbath.” 

The  words  proceeded  from  beneath  a broad 
brimmed  hat  which  emerged  from  among  some 
shrubbery,  and  the  party  were  quickly  conducted 
into  a spacious  Quaker  kitchen  where  a bountiful  re- 
past was  in  -waiting  for  them,  after  partaking  of 
which  they  were  consigned  to  safe  quarters  for  the 
day. 

From  this  hospitable  retreat,  they  sallied  forth  on 
Monday  evening  for  another  night  journey,  only  to 
find  in  its  ending  a duplicate  of  the  preceding  one ; 
and  in  this  way  the  whole  distance  from  Baltimore 
to  Philadelphia  was  made  on  foot. 

Once  in  the  Quaker  city,  they  were  quietly  put  on 
a fishing  smack  and  conveyed  to  Bordentown.  At 
the  latter  place,  under  the  management  of  a shrewd 
Quaker,  a personal  friend  of  the  railroad  agent,  the 
boys  were  hid  away  among  boxes  and  bales  of  goods 
in  a freight  car  and  were  soon  on  their  way  to 
Gotham.  Mean-while  the  girls  wrere  dressed  for  the 
occasion,  and  at  evening,  closely  veiled,  just  as  the 
train  was  starting,  were  escorted  into  a coach  by  a 
gentleman  assuming  the  full  Southern  air,  and  who 
had  no  hesitancy  in  pushing  aside  a watcher  for  run- 
aways stationed  at  the  door.  At  New  York  they 
again  rejoined  the  “ way  freight,”  and  the  whole 
party  were  at  once  sent  on  to  Albany,  where  they 


28 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


arrived  after  a journey  of  twenty  days  instead  of  two 
as  supposed  in  Washington. 

LAVINIA. 

Apropos  of  the  lamentable  exhibitions  of  mob- 
violence,  court-house  burning,  Sabbath  desecration 
and  election  frauds  presented  by  Cincinnati  in  the 
past  few  years,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  give  a little 
exhibition  of  the  spirit  there  manifested  by  the  men 
of  a past  generation  and  see  whence  some  of  her  pres- 
ent unenviable  reputation  comes.  The  city  was  well 
known  to  be  intensely  pro-slavery  and  to  her  came 
many  a haughty  Southron  for  purposes  of  business 
or  pleasure,  bringing  with  him  more  or  less  of  his 
chattels  as  attendants.  Among  the  comers  of  the 
summer  of  1843,  was  a man  named  Scanlan,  visiting 
his  brother-in-law,  one  Hawkins.  He  brought  with 
his  family  a pretty  slave  girl  named  Lavinia,  some 
ten  years  old. 

Before  the  party  left  New  Orleans,  the  mother  of 
the  girl,  a slave  in  that  city,  had  given  her  the  fol- 
lowing admonitory  instructian: — “Now  ’Vinya,  yer 
Massa’s  gwine  for  ter  take  yer  Norf,  an’  wen  yer  gets 
to  Sinsnate,  chile,  yer  free,  an’  he’ll  sen’  some  good 
anj’l  for  to  hide  yer  un’er  him  wing  ; an’  if  you  doan 
go  wid  him,  but  kum  back  to  dis  Souf  wid  yer  ol’ 
Massa,  dis  very  han’ll  take  yer  black  skin  right  off 
yer  back  shuah.  Mebbe  wen  yer  safe  in  dat  free  lan’, 
yer  ol’  muder’ll  fin’  yer  thar  if  the  good  Lor’  be 
willin  ’.”  Then  she  placed  around  the  neck  of  the 


JO  NORTON. 


29 


girl  a small  gold  chain  which  was  to  he  continually 
worn,  that  if  they  ever  chanced  to  meet  in  Canada, 
the  mother  might  know  her  child. 

Once  in  Cincinnati,  Lavinia  began  looking  care- 
fully for  some  “good  anj’l,”  but  instead,  soon  found 
two  in  the  person  of  a colored  man  and  his  Avife  liv- 
ing near  Mr.  Hawkins’.  To  those  she  carefully  com- 
mitted her  mother’s  counsel  and  threat.  These 
parties  entered  heartily  into  her  proposition  to  es- 
cape, and  one  night  dressed  her  in  a suit  of  boy’s 
clothes  and  took  her  to  the  head  of  Spring  street, 
near  the  foot  of  Sycamore  Hill,  and  gave  her  in 
charge  of  Samuel  Reynolds,  a well-known  Quaker, 
where  she  was  successfully  concealed  for  a number 
of  days  whilst  Scanlan  Avas  raging  about  and  as  far 
as  possible  instituting  a vigorous  search. 

Not  far  from  Mr.  Reynolds  was  the  home  of  Ed- 
Avard  Hanvood  in  Avhose  family  resided  John  H. 
Coleman,  a dealer  in  marble.  The  Harwoods  and 
Colemans  were  ardent  Abolitionists  and  ready  to 
stand  by  any  panting  fugith'e  to  the  last.  Mrs. 
Harw'ood’s  house  stood  on  a side  hill  with  a steep 
grade  in  front,  and  the  narroAV  yard  was  reached  by 
a flight  of  some  twenty  steps,  whilst  the  side  and 
rear  were  easily  accessible. 

After  a time  Mrs.  Harwood,  who  had  become 
much  interested  in  Lavinia,  took  her  home,  Avhere 
she  Avas  carefully  concealed  during  the  day,  but  al- 
lowed a little  exercise  in  the  dusk  of  the  eA'ening  in 
the  front  yard,  which  Avas  so  high  above  the  street  as 
to  be  unobservable. 


30 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


One  evening  when  the  girl  was  thus  engaged  the 
great  house  dog,  Swamp,  which  always  accompanied 
her  kept  up  such  a growling  and  snarling,  as  induced 
the  men  to  think  there  might  be  foul  play  brewing 
and  they  went  out  several  times  but  could  detect 
nothing.  Finally  one  of  them  said,  “ That  child  had 
better  come  in  ; some  one  may  be  watching  for  her,” 
upon  which  Mrs.  Coleman  put  her  head  out  of  the 
window  and  calling  her  by  name,  bade  her  come  in, 
after  which  all  was  quiet  for  the  night. 

Dinner  over  the  next  day,  the  gentlemen  had 
taken  their  departure  down  town,  the  ladies  were 
busy  about  their  wrork  ; an  invalid  gentleman  was 
reclining  in  an  easy  chair  and  the  girl  had  fallen 
asleep  up-stairs,  when  a man  suddenly  appeared  at 
the  top  of  the  flight  of  steps  and  very  uncermoni- 
ously  entered  the  front  door  which  was  open,  and 
looking  hurridly  around  roughly  demanded, 
“ Where’s  my  child  ? I want  my  child,  and  if  you 
don’t  give  her  up  there’ll  be  trouble.” 

It  needed  no  further  evidence  to  convince  the 
ladies  it  was  Scanlan,  an  impression  which  had 
seized  them  both  even  before  he  had  spoken,  but 
then  they  were  not  the  kind  to  be  scared  by  his 
bluster,  and  Mrs.  Coleman  replied  with  spirit  “ You 
have  no  child  here  and  if  you  were  a gentleman  you 
would  not  be  here  yourself.” 

At  this  Scanlon  turned  upon  her  and  whilst  his 
fists  were  clinched  and  his  face  livid  with  rage,  ex- 
claimed, “ I tell  you  she  is  here,  my  slave  girl, 


JO  NORTON. 


31 


Lavinia ; I saw  her  last  night  myself ; and  if  it  had 
not  been  for  you,  madam,  and  that  devlish  dog  there, 
I should  have  gotten  her  then.  I had  her  nearly 
within  my  grasp  when  you  bade  her  come  in.  I say 
where  is  my  child  ? Give  her  up.” 

“ You  have  no  child  here,”  coolly  replied  Mrs. 
Coleman  again. 

“ I say  I have,  and  if  she  hears  me  call  she  will 
answer  me.”  Saying  which  he  went  to  the  stairway 
and  called  “ Lavinia,  Lavinia.” 

The  child  heard  the  voice,  recognized  it,  and  at 
once  quietly  hid  herself  within  the  bed.  Though 
flie  call  was  repeated  several  times,  no  answer  came, 
and  Mrs.  Coleman  inquired,  “ Are  you  satisfied 
now  ? ” 

“ I know  my  child  is  here,  and  you  cursed  Abo- 
litionist have  hidden  her  away,”  said  the  now  almost 
frantic  Scanlan.  “ You  need  not  think  you  are  go- 
ing to  fool  me.  I’m  going  to  have  my  child,  my 
slave,  my  property.  I shall  go  down  town  and  get 
a warrant  and  an  officer  to  search  your  house,  and 
you’ll  get  no  chance  to  run  the  girl  away  either,  for 
I shall  leave  a guard  over  you  whilst  I am  gone,” 
then  stepping  to  the  door  he  said,  “ Hawkins,  come 
in  here,”  and  the  brother-in-law,  before  unseen  by 
the  inmates  of  the  house,  entered.  “ Now,  Mr. 
Hawkins,  I am  going  for  a warrant,  and  I want  you 
to  see  that  my  child  does  not  get  away  till  the  officer 
comes,”  saying  which  Scanlon  took  his  departure 
and  Hawkins  a seat,  though  evidently  very  ill  at  ease. 


32 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


When  part  way  down  town  the  Southron  recog- 
nized Mr.  Harwood  coming  up  the  hill  in  his  buggy, 
and  thinking  to  intimidate  him  said,  “ I am  after 
my  slave  girl  who  is  in  your  house.  Your  women 
refuse  to  give  her  up.  You  will  find  the  place  well 
guarded,  and  I will  soon  have  a warrant  to  search 
the  place.” 

“ I’ll  make  it  hotter  than  tophet  for  any  one  guard- 
ing my  house,  and  the  man  who  comes  about  my 
premises  with  a search  warrant  until  I am  accused 
of  murder  or  theft,  does  so  at  his  peril,”  was  the 
warm  reply,  as  Mr.  Harwood  started  rapidly  towards 
his  home.  Arriving  there  he  thus  addressed  Mr. 
Hawkins : “ I am  told,  sir,  you  are  here  to  guard 

my  house  and  family.  We  have  need  of  no  such 
attention,  and  if  you  do  not  immediately  depart 
from  our  premises  I shall  pitch  you  headlong  into 
the  street.  Be  gone  you  miserable  tool  of  a most 
miserable  whelp.”  Just  then  the  cowed  and  crest- 
fallen Hawkins  made  a practical  application  of  his 
knowledge  of  Shakespeare,  and  stood  not  upon  his 
going.” 

Remembering  the  great  pro-slavery  mob  of  1836, 
when  the  office  of  James  G.  Birney’s  paper,  The 
Philanthropist,  was  destroyed,  and  that  of  1841,  when 
but  for  the  prompt  action  of  Governor  Corwin  in 
aiding  the  arming  of  the  students,  an  attack  would 
have  been  made  upon  Lane  Seminary  as  a “d — d 
Abolition  hole,”  Scanlan  hastened  to  the  “ Alham- 
bra,” then  a popular  saloon,  gathered  about  him  a 


JO  NORTON. 


33 


band  of  roughs  and  after  a treat  all  round  proceeded 
to  harangue  them  regarding  his  loss  and  also  his  un- 
availing efforts  to  regain  his  chattel.  Under  the  in- 
fluence of  his  speech  and  the  more  potent  one  of  an 
open  bar,  the  crowd  readily  promised  him  their  sup- 
port, and  arranged  to  be  at  the  hill  in  the  evening 
time  to  see  the  fun. 

Meantime  Mr.  Harwood  was  apprising  his  friends 
of  the  state  of  affairs,  and  these  were  beginning  to 
gather  at  his  house.  One  of  them,  an  employee  of 
Mr.  Coleman,  as  he  came  up  the  hill,  found  a 
number  of  flags  already  set  to  guide  the  mob  to  the 
Harwood  residence.  These  were  torn  down.  Before 
the  arrival  of  Mr.  Coleman  a crowd  of  excited  people 
had  assembled  in  the  street  below  the  house.  Seeing 
among  them  an  officer  notorious  for  his  cupidity  and 
in  entire  sympathy  with  the  slave  catchers,  Mr.  Cole- 
man approached  him  and  shaking  hands  said,  “ Why 
how  do  you  do,  Mr.  O’Neil?  I am  told  you  have  a 
search-warrant  for  my  house.” 

“ For  your  house?” 

“ Yes ; here  is  where  I live  and  I wish  to  know 
on  what  grounds  you  intend  to  search  my  house,  as 
I am  not  aware  of  having  laid  myself  liable  to  such 
a process.” 

“ There  must  be  some  mistake,”  said  the  officer. 
“ Indeed,  Mr.  Coleman,  I must  have  been  misin- 
formed as  to  the  merits  of  the  case.” 

“ Let  me  see  the  paper,”  persisted  Mr.  Coleman. 

“ No,”  said  O’Neil,  “there  is  a blunder  somewhere,” 


34 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


and  he  pushed  his  way,  in  a discomfited  manner, 
through  the  crowd  and  disappeared. 

As  the  crowd  increased  in  the  streets,  the  friends 
of  Mr.  Harwood  arrived,  until  all  the  Abolitionists 
in  the  city,  some  forty  in  number,  were  present.  Mr. 
Harwood  stood  on  the  front  steps  with  Swamp,  and 
when  anyone  evinced  a purpose  to  ascend  the  steps 
the  fine  display  of  ivory  in  the  dog’s  mouth  cooled 
his  ardor.  Mr.  Coleman  and  Alf.  Burnet,  afterwards 
well  known  in  anti-slavery  circles,  went  to  a Dutch 
armory  and  secured  a quantity  of  arms  and  ammu- 
nition ; the  women  took  up  the  carpet  in  the  parlor 
which  soon  presented  the  appearance  of  a military 
bivouac,  whilst  papers  and  valuables  were  hurried 
off  to  other  houses,  and  a strong  guard  was  placed 
before  the  door.  An  application  was  made  to  the 
sheriff  for  protection,  but  he  only  replied,  “ If  you 
make  yourself  obnoxious  to  your  neighbors,  you 
must  sutler  the  consequences.” 

Whilst  Scanlan  was  making  his  inflamatory 
speeches  down  town,  and  subsidizing  the  saloons,  La- 
vinia  was  redressing  in  her  boy’s  suit  and  was  quietly 
taken  out  on  a back  street  to  a Mr.  Emery’s,  the 
crowd  meanwhile  crying,  “ Bring  out  the  lousy 

huzzy ; where  is  the  black  b ch  ? ” and  other 

equally  classic  expressions.  One  blear-eyed  ruffian 
exclaimed,  “ If  my  property  was  in  thar,  I’d  have  it 
or  I’d  have  the  d — d Abolitionist’s  heart’s  blood,  I 
would.’  Another  one,  equally  valorous  called  out, 
“ Go  in  boys  ; why  don’t  you  go  in  ? ” and  a score  of 


JO  NORTON. 


35 


voices  responded,  “ Go  in  yourself.  The  nigger  ain’t 
ourn.  Where’s  the  boss?  Guess  he’s  afraid  of 
shootin’  irons,”  a feeling  that  evidently  pervaded  the 
whole  assemblage. 

Being  without  a leader,  and  having  no  personal 
interest  at  stake,  about  dark  the  mob  moved  down 
the  street,  stoning  and  materially  damaging  the 
house  of  Alf.  Burnett’s  father  as  they  passed  by. 
The  old  gentleman  gathered  up  a large  quantity  of 
the  missiles  and  kept  them  on  exhibition  for  several 
years  as  samples  of  pro-slavery  arguments. 

Scanlan  vented  his  spleen  and  breathed  out  his 
threatenings  through  the  city  papers,  but  being  un- 
able to  get  any  redress,  and  finding  he  was  to  be 
prosecuted  for  trespass,  he  hastily  decamped  for 
New  Orleans. 

After  a week  or  two,  Livinia,  dressed  in  her  mas- 
culin  suit  went  with  some  boys  who  were  driving 
their  cows  to  the  hills  to  pasture,  and  was  by  them 
placed  in  the  care  of  a conductor , by  whom  she  was 
safely  forwarded  to  Oberlin.  Here  she  was  found  to 
have  a fine  mind,  was  befittingly  educated,  and  ulti- 
mately sent  as  a missionary  to  Africa.  After  the 
lapse  of  several  years  she  returned  to  this  country, 
and  whilst  visiting  the  friends  in  Cincinnati,  who 
had  so  kindly  befriended  her  in  the  days  of  her 
childhood,  suddenly  sickened  and  died. 


36 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


A RUSE. 

Serious  and  earnest  as  was  the  work  of  our  rail- 
road, it  was  made  the  pretext  for  many  a practical 
joke  and  arrant  fraud.  In  the  north  part  of  Trum- 
bull county,  Ohio,  lived  an  ancient  agent  named 
Bartlett,  having  in  his  employ  a newly  married  man 
named  DeWitt,  a rollocking  kind  of  a fellow,  and 
well  calculated  to  personate  a son  of  Ham,  or  a 
daughter  as  well.  DeWitt  conspired  with  his  wife 
ana  some  of  the  female  members  of  the  old  gentle- 
man’s family  to  have  a little  fun  at  Mr.  Bartlett’s  ex- 
pense. Some  thrown  off  apparel  of  Mrs.  Bartlett 
was  procured  from  the  garret,  and,  properly  black- 
ened, he  was  attired  in  a grotesque  manner. 

Just  at  evening  a decrepid  wench  applied  for  ad- 
mission at  Mr.  Bartlett’s  door.  The  women  appeared 
very  much  frightened  and  were  about  shutting  the 
door  in  her  face,  when  the  old  gentleman,  hearing 
the  negro  dialect  came  to  the  rescue.  Soon  the 
wanderer  was  comfortably  seated, and  to  Mr.  Bartlett’s 
inquiry  as  to  where  she  was  from  replied,  “ Oh  Lor’, 
Massa,  I’se  from  ol’  Virginny  an’  I’se  boun’  for 
Canady,  and  Massa  Sutlifft,  he  tells  me  I mus’  cum 
heah,  but  de  white  missus  scare  at  dis  ol’  black  face.” 

“O  well,  never  mind  that,  they  are  all  right  now.” 

“ Bress  de  Lor’  for  dat.” 

Speaking  to  his  wife,  Mr.  Bartlett  directed  some 
supper  be  prepared  before  he  should  send  her  on. 

“ O no,  Massa,  I’se  been  done  and  eat  supper  dis 
bressed  day.’ 


JO  NORTON. 


37 


“ Well,  then,  we’ll  arrange  to  send  you  on  soon) 
but  come  and  see  my  grandson,”  a lad  lying  sick  in 
the  other  part  of  the  room,  saying  which  he  arose 
and  took  the  hand  of  the  dame  and  led  her  to  the  bed- 
side, and  laying  his  hand  across  her  stooped  shoulders, 
began  to  speak  tenderly  of  the  little  sufferer. 

The  risibilities  of  the  counterfeit  Dinah  were  now 
at  their  utmost  tension  and  she  contrived  to  place  a 
foot  heavily  upon  the  caudal  appendage  of  the  great 
house  dog  lying  near.  There  was  a sudden  bound  of 
the  brute,  accompanied  by  a most  unearthly  howl, 
and  away  darted  the  decripit  fugitive,  shrieking,  “ 0 
Lor’  de  houn’,  de  houn’.” 

It  was  in  vain  the  philanthropic  old  agent  called 
after  her,  that  there  was  no  danger ; on  she  sped  un- 
til an  opportunity  offered  to  restore  herself  to  Ja- 
phetic hue  and  male  attire. 

Mr.  Bartlett  long  upbraided  the  female  portion  of 
his  household  for  want  of  humanity  on  that  occa- 
sion, but  was  allowed  to  die  in  blissful  ignorance  of 
the  ruse  played  upon  him,  and  DeWitt  confessed 
that  the  ultimate  fun  derived  therefrom  scarcely 
compensated  for  the  annoyance  of  the  old  gentleman 
and  the  trouble  of  removing  the  cork. 

VI. 

A year  has  passed  anxiously  at  Albany  with  Jo. 
Rumors  reached  him  that  in  an  attempt  to  escape, 
Mary  had  been  captured  and  sold  into  the  south 
forever  beyond  his  reach.  Gathering  up  his  earnings 


38 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


and  bidding  his  companions  good-by,  he  started 
rather  aimlessly  westward,  and  where  he  would 
have  brought  up  no  one  can  tell,  had  he  not  one  day 
met  a stranger,  a pleasant,  benevolent  looking  gentle- 
man, near  the  village  of  Versailles,  N.  Y.  It  was 
just  at  the  close  of  that  most  hilarious  campaign  in 
which  the  cry  of  “ Tippecano  and  Tyler  too,”  with 
“ two  dollars  a day  and  roast  beef,”  mollified  with 
liberal  potations  of  “ hard  cider,”  rendered  “ Little 
Matty  Van  a used  up  man,”  though  the  result  was 
not  yet  ascertained,  for  no  telegraph  had  learned  to 
herald  its  lightning  message  in  advance  of  time.  If 
no  other  good  came  from  the  campaign,  it  had  given 
every  class  of  men  the  free  use  of  the  tongue  in 
hurrahing  for  his  favorite  candidate,  and  foot-sore 
and  hungry  as  he  was,  there  was  something  about 
the  gentleman  that  said  to  Jo,  “ Now  is  your  oppor- 
tunity,” and  touching  his  hat  in  genuine  politeness 
he  called  out,  “ Hooraw  for  01’  Tip.” 

Good  naturedly  the  gentleman  responded,  “ Well, 
my  good  fellow,  it  is  a little  late  for  you  to  be  hur- 
rahing for  any  candidate  now  that  election  is  over, 
and,  though  you  didn’t  quite  strike  my  man,  I shall 
find  no  fault.  I know  what  you  want  more  than 
‘hard  cider.’  It  is  a night’s  food  and  lodging.” 

“ Thank  you  Massa,  I’se  tired  and  hungry,  an’  de 
fac’  am  I doan  know  what  to  do  with  myself.” 

“Well,  no  matter  about  that  just  now.  Come 
along ; ” and  Eber  M.  Pettit,  long  known  as  an 
earnest  Abolitionist  in  Cattaraugus  and  Chautauqua 


JO  NORTON. 


39 


counties,  led  the  disheartened  wanderer  to  his  home, 
where,  after  supper,  he  questioned  him  as  to  his 
history,  and  when  he  had  learned  his  unvarnished 
tale,  he  suggested  that  the  man  should  stay  with  him 
that  winter  as  a man-of-all-chores,  and  attend  the 
village  school. 

As  a result  of  that  evening’s  conference  there  ap- 
peared among  the  children  of  the  district  school  in  a 
few  days  a colored  man  of  about  twenty  five  years 
of  age,  learning  with  the  youngest  of  them  his  a b c. 
This  was  an  innovation,  unique  in  the  extreme. 
Some  of  the  villagers  turned  up  their  noses  at  the 
“ nigger,”  but  the  social  standing  of  Mr.  Pettit,  and 
the  story  of  Jo  which  was  freely  circulated  among 
the  people,  together  with  his  genial  disposition  and 
kindness  of  manner,  soon  silenced  all  cavil  and  the 
school  quietly  progressed. 

Learning  that  the  editor  of  the  Liberty  Press  was 
in  Washington,  Mr.  Pettit  addressed  him  in  the  fol- 
lowing letter: 

Versailles,  N.  Y.,  Dec.  i,  1840. 

Dear  General. — I have  at  my  house  a colored  man  named 
Jo  Norton.  Something  over  a year  ago  he  left  a wife  and 
child  in  the  Capital,  the  property  of  a Mr.  Judson.  She  was 
to  have  been  brought  off  directly  after  he  left,  but  the  effort 
failed  and  he  understands  she  has  been  sold  South.  Will 
you  be  so  kind  as  to  inquire  into  the  matter  aud  see  what 
can  be  done  in  the  case  if  anything?  Make  your  return  to 
Jo  Norton,  direct. 

Yours  Truly, 

E.  M.  Pettit. 

Gen.  W.  L.  Chaplain, 

Washington,  D.  C. 


4o 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


This  letter  was  duly  posted,  and  on  the  morrow  an 
ebony  face,  the  very  picture  of  expectancy,  put  in  an 
appearance  at  the  village  post  office  with  the  query, 
“Any  letter  for  Jo  Norton,  Massa  pos’  massa  ? ” 
Thus  it  was  twice  a day  for  a week,  when  his  unso- 
phisticated importunity  was  rewarded  by  a missive 
bearing  the  address, 

Jo  Norton , Esq. , 
Versailles , 

Care  E.  M.  Pettit , Esq.  N.  Y. 

and  bearing  the  post-mark  of  the  Capital.  It  read 
as  follows : 

Mr.  Norton,  Dear  Sir: 

The  woman  about  whom  Mr.  Pettit  wrote  me  is  here. 
After  her  husband’s  escape  she  was  detected  in  what  was 
thought  to  be  an  effort  to  leave  and  was  thrown  into  prison, 
where  she  lost  an  infant  child.  After  three  months  she  was 
visited  by  her  master,  and  on  a solemn  promise  never  to 
make  another  effort  to  run  away  she  was  taken  back  to  the 
family  where  she  and  the  boy  appear  to  be  treated  with  great 
kindness.  Though  he  has  been  offered  $800  for  her,  Mr. 
Judson  said  he  never  sold  a slave,  and  never  will,  but  if  her 
husband  can  raise  $350  for  them  by  March  4th,  proximo, 
they  will  be  given  free  papers  so  I can  bring  them  North 
with  me  at  that  time. 

Truly, 

W.  L.  Chaplain. 

At  the  reading  of  this  letter,  Jo,  prompted  by  the 
fervent  piety  of  his  nature,  broke  into  hysterical  fits 
of  laughter,  interspersed  with  “ Bress  de  Lor’,  bress 
de  Lor’.”  But  when  the  first  paroxysm  of  joy  was 
over  he  became  very  despondent,  for  he  had  no  $350 


JO  NORTON. 


41 


and  no  friend  to  whom  to  appeal  for  it ; but  here,  as 
before,  Mr.  Pettit  came  to  the  rescue. 

“See  here,  Jo,”  he  said,  “there  are  nearly  three 
months  to  the  fourth  of  March,  and  yours  is  a won- 
derful story.  You  shall  go  forth  and  tell  it  to  the 
people,  and  the  money  will  come.” 

“ Wy,  bress  de  Lor’,  Massa  Pettit,  dis  chile  can 
nebber  do  dat.  De  people  would  jus’  laf  at  de 
nigger.” 

“ Never  mind  the  laugh,  Jo.  If  you  love  Mary 
and  the  boy  you  can  stand  the  laughing.  Now  be  a 
man.  I will  go  with  you  and  see  you  start ; ” and 
before  bed-time  he  had  laid  out  the  work  for  his 
ward,  in  whom  he  had  now7  become  thoroughly  inter- 
ested, and  had  listened  several  times  to  his  rehearsal 
of  his  story  of  escape  and  tale  of  plantation  life,  and 
offered  such  suggestions  as  he  thought  advisable,  and 
that  night  Jo  wrent  to  bed  “ to  sleep  ; to  dream.”  To 
dream  of  wife  and  boy  in  slavery,  and  himself  mak- 
ing speeches  among  the  white  people  of  the  North 
for  their  deliverance. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Pettit  went  out  into  the 
country  a few  miles  where  he  had  a number  of 
Abolition  friends  and  made  full  arrangements  for 
Jo’s  speaking  there  early  the  next  week.  In  the 
meantime  the  word  was  thoroughly  circulated  w7hilst 
Jo  wras  most  effectively  schooled  to  his  new7  field,  and 
on  the  appointed  evening  the  school-house  w7as  filled 
to  overflowing.  Jo  told  his  story  in  such  a man- 
ner as  to  draw7  out  rounds  of  approbative  applause 


42 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


from  the  mouths  of  the  audience,  and  six  dollars 
from  their  pockets  when  the  hat  was  passed  round. 
Meetings  were  held  immediately  in  the  several  school 
districts  in  the  vicinity  with  marked  success,  and 
then  Jo,  highly  inspired,  left  school  and  started  out 
on  a systematic  course  of  lectures  which  took  him 
to  Westfield,  Mayville  and  other  villages  of  Chau- 
tauqua county  as  well  as  Cattaraugus. 

On  the  25th  day  of  January  Mr.  Pettit  received 
the  following  from  Washington  : 

“ Dear  Pettit. — If  Judson  can  have  $300  by  February  first, 
he  will  deliver  up  the  woman  and  child  of  whom  we  have 
had  correspondence. 

In  haste, 

W.  L.  Chaplain.” 

He  hastened  to  Ellicottville  and  found  that  Jo  had 
already  realized  $100.  A meeting  was  immediately 
called  in  an  office  in  the  village,  at  which  were  pres- 
ent Judge  Chamberlin,  of  Randolph,  E.  S.  Coleman, 
of  Dunkirk,  and  several  other  gentlemen.  The  letter 
was  read,  and  at  the  suggestion  of  the  Judge  a note 
for  two  hundred  dollars  was  drawn  and  signed  by 
ten  of  them,  with  the  understanding  that  they  were 
to  share  equally  in  the  payment  of  any  deficit  after 
Jo  had  done  his  best.  The  money  was  advanced 
by  Mr.  Coleman,  and  one  of  the  party  drove  fifty 
miles  to  Buffalo,  through  a pelting  storm,  purchased 
a draft,  forwarded  it  to  Mr.  Coleman,  and  before  the 
“ days  of  grace  ” had  expired  Mary  and  her  child 
were  duly  registered  and  delivered  as  free  people. 


JO  NORTON. 


43 


Meanwhile  Jo’s  story  had  gotten  into  the  papers 
of  Western  New  York,  and  he  had  calls  from  various 
places  to  lecture ; indeed,  he  had  become  quite  a 
local  Hon,  and  so  successful  that  early  in  March 
when  word  came  that  Mary  and  the  child  had 
reached  Utica,  he  was  the  possesser  of  $195.  This 
he  deposited  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Pettit  who  returned 
him  $30  and  told  him  to  go  and  make  provision  for 
his  wife  and  child,  and  pay  the  balance  of  the  note 
when  he  could.  Though  he  had  walked  that  day 
from  Buffalo,  a distance  of  nearly  thirty  miles,  Jo 
immediately  returned,  and  early  the  next  day,  in 
the  home  of  a leading  Abolitionist  in  Utica  there 
was  a regular  “ Hal’lujer ; Bress  de  Lor’,  for  de  Lor’ 
will  bress  his  people,”  time  when  Jo  and  Mary  met 
after  their  seemingly  hopeless  separation. 

VII. 

Ten  years  and  more  had  passed ; the  Ellicottville 
note  had  been  long  settled;  Jo  had  laid  aside  his 
mission  as  a lecturer  and  gone  into  business  in  Syra- 
cuse, N.  Y.,  where  he  owned  a pleasant  home  and 
had  a family  of  intelligent  children  attending  the 
public  school ; New  York  State,  like  the  country  at 
large,  had  been  convulsed  over  the  slavery  question, 
and  the  city  of  his  adoption  had  become  a town  of 
intensely  Abolition  sentiment.  As  the  outgrowth  of 
the  slavery  agitation  there  had  come  the  enactment 
of  the  “ Fugitive  Slave  Law,”  as  it  was  popularly,  or 
rather  unpopularly  called,  by  means  of  which  the 


44 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


South  thought  to  render  imperative  the  rendition  of 
their  runaway  slaves.  But  they  had  counted  "without 
their  host.  Though  successful  in  cracking  their 
whips  over  the  heads  of  Northern  law-makers  in  the 
Capitol,  the  great  mass  of  the  people  of  the  free 
states,  no  matter  what  their  political  affiliations,  felt 
outraged  at  the  idea  of  being  converted  into  a set  of 
legally  constituted  slave  hunters.  Few  places  more 
excited  the  ire  of  the  chivalry  than  Syracuse,  and  the 
threat  was  defiantly  made  that  if  another  anti-slavery 
convention  was  held  in  the  city  it  should  be  en- 
livened by  the  seizure  of  a fugitive  of  whom  a test 
case  could  be  made. 

Not  to  be  thus  intimidated,  a call  for  such  a con- 
vention was  issued  and  at  the  appointed  time  com- 
menced. Whilst  the  delegates  were  organizing  in  the 
old  Market  Hall,  in  a cooper  shop  in  another  part  of 
the  city,  all  unconscious  of  danger,  a colored  man 
named  Jerry,  who  had  some  years  before  escaped 
from  slavery,  was  busy  engaged  at  his  labor,  when 
he  was  suddenly  pounced  upon  by  a marshal  and 
his  deputies  from  Rochester,  and,  after  a brave  re- 
sistance, overpowered,  manacled  and  thrown  into  a 
cart  secured  for  that  purpose,  and  hurried  away  to 
the  commissioner’s  office,  closely  guarded.  The  news 
of  the  arrest  spead  like  wild-fire,  and  soon  the  streets 
were  thronged  with  excited  people.  A man  rushed 
into  the  convention  and  called  out : “ Mr.  President 

a fugitive  has  been  arrested  and  they  are  trying  to 
hurry  him  away.”  Without  motion,  the  convention 


JO  NORTON. 


45 


adjourned,  and  the  delegates  and  attendants  were 
added  to  the  throng  already  in  the  street.  The  up- 
roar was  equal  to  that,  when,  for  the  “ space  of  two 
hours,”  the  people  cried,  “ Great  is  Diana  of  the 
Ephesians,”  but  more  concentrated,  and  the  cause  of 
coming  together  better  understood. 

Jerry  was  hurried  into  the  commissioner’s  office, 
the  lower  door  to  which  was  heavily  barred  and  the 
upper  one  securely  bolted,  so  that  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty that  his  council  and  more  immediate  friends 
obtained  admission. 

The  court  once  opened,  within  there  was  conten- 
tion, parley,  quibble  and  delay  until  twilight  fell ; 
without,  the  building  was  immediately  surrounded 
by  fugitives  who  had  found  an  asylum  in  and  about 
the  city,  and  free  colored  people,  among  whom  Jo 
Norton  towered  like  Saul  among  his  brethren,  and 
beyond  these  an  immense  multitude  of  citizens  who 
had  stood  waiting  all  the  afternoon  of  that  eventful 
day,  manifesting  no  disposition  to  retire. 

When  it  was  announced  that  the  court  had  ad- 
journed for  supper,  it  was  soon  evident  that  the 
decisive  hour  had  come.  A heavy  timber  was  lifted 
to  the  shoulders  of  some  sturdy  negroes,  and  using 
the  temporary  space  accorded  them,  at  the  watch- 
word “ Jo  ” they  hurled  it  with  such  force  against 
the  door  that  bars  and  hinges  gave  way,  and  Norton, 
crowbar  in  hand,  at  the  head  of  a storming  column 
entered  the  stairway  hall.  The  marshal  was  a man 
of  nerve  and  disclaimed  against  any  attempt  on  the 


46 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


inner  door,  but  in  vain.  A few  vigorous  blows  of 
the  crowbar  forced  it  open ; there  was  the  sharp  re- 
port of  a pistol  succeeded  by  a quick  blow  of  the 
bar,  and  Jo  unharmed,  stood  master  of  the  situation, 
whilst  the  right  arm  of  the  marshal  hung  useless  at 
his  side.  The  posse  scattered,  the  marshal  saving 
himself  by  jumping  from  the  second  story  window 
and  skulking  away  in  the  dark ; Jerry,  who  had 
been  very  roughly  treated,  was  unloosed,  and  by 
daylight  was  well  on  his  way  to  Canada,  whilst  the 
convention  resumed  its  deliberations  the  next  day 
amid  the  congratulations  of  many  who  before  had 
looked  upon  its  purpose  with  indifference  or  abso- 
lute opposition. 

As  for  Jo,  though  defying  slave-hunters  and  their 
hirelings  as  such,  having  now  arrayed  himself  by  an 
act  of  violence  against  the  government,  he  took 
the  advice  of  judicious  friends,  and  soon  removed  to 
Canada,  where  for  years  he  was  an  esteemed  citizen, 
and  a friend  and  adviser  of  those  who  came  to  his 
locality  as  fugitives. 

VIII. 

As  an  index  of  Jo’s  native  quickness  of  perception, 
the  following  excerpts,  taken  from  Pettit’s  “ Sketches 
of  the  Underground  Railroad,”  published  some  years 
ago  by  W.  McKinstry  & Son,  are  added,  the  only 
change  being  that  the  places  where  the  events  are 
thought  to  have  taken  place  are  given. 

“ Jo  was  a serious,  devoted  Christian,  yet  his  wit 


JO  NORTON. 


47 


and  mirthfulness  were  often  exhibited  in  keen,  sar- 
castic repartee.  At  Delanti  the  question  was  asked, 

‘ Did  you  work  hard  when  you  were  a slave  ? ’ 

‘No!  I didn’t  work  hard  when  I could  help  it.’ 

‘ Did  you  have  enough  to  eat  ? ’ 

‘ Yes,  such  as  it  was.’ 

1 Did  you  have  decent  clothes  ? ’ 

1 Yes,  midlin’.’ 

‘ Well,  you  were  better  off  than  most  people  are 
here,  and  you  were  a fool  to  run  away.  ’ 

‘Well,  now,  the  place  I lef’  is  there  yet,  I s’pose. 
Guess  nobody’s  never  got  into  it,  and  if  my  frien’ 
here  wants  it,  he  can  have  it  fo’  the  askin,’  though 
p’raps  he  better  get  his  member  of  Congress  to  recom- 
mend him .’  ” 

“ At  Westfield,  a fellow  asked,  ‘ Is  the  speaker  in 
favor  of  amalgamation  ? ’ 

‘ ’Gamation ! what’s  dat?  ’ 

‘It  means  whites  and  blacks  marrying  together.’ 
‘ 0 dat’s  it ! as  fo’  such  things  they  ’pends  mostly 
on  peples’  tas’.  Fo’  my  part,  I have  a colored 
woman  fo’  a wife, — that’s  my  choice, — an’  if  my 
frien’  here  wants  a black  wife,  an’  if  she  is  pleased 
with  him,  I’m  suah  I shant  get  mad  about  it.’  ” 

“ Soon  after  he  commenced  collecting  funds  to  re- 
deem his  family  from  bondage,  he  was  invited  to  go 
to  a school  house  in  Villenova.  When  near  the 
place  he  saw  two  boys  chopping,  and  heard  one  of 
them  say  : ‘ There’s  the  nigger.’ 

“ Jo  stopped  and  said : ‘ I ain’t  a nigger ! I 


48 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


alius  pays  my  debts  ; my  massa  was  a nigger.  See 
here ! when  you  chop,  you  be  a chopper,  ain’t  dat 
so?  ’ 

1 Yes,’  responded  the  boys. 

‘ Well,  when  a man  nigs,  I call  him  a nigger. 
Now  ol’  massa  nigged  me  out  of  all  I earned  in  my 
life.  Of  course  he  is  a nigger.’  Then  Jo  sang  the 
chorus  to  one  of  Geo.  W.  Clark’s  Liberty  songs  : 

‘They  worked  me  all  de  day, 

Widout  one  cent  of  pay  ; 

So  I took  my  flight 
In  de  middle  ob  de  night, 

When  de  moon  am  gone  away.’ 

‘ Now,  boys,  come  over  to  the  school-house  this 
evening  and  I’ll  sing  you  the  res’  of  it.’  That  even- 
ing Jo  had  a full  house  and  a good  collection.” 

THE  ORIGINAL  “JERRY.” 

Having  given  a brief  account  of  the. “Jerry  Res- 
cue” at  Syracuse,  a circumstance  fraught  with  mo- 
mentus  consequences,  and  no  inconsiderable  factor 
in  precipitating  the  “Impending  Crisis,”  I now  pass 
to  consider  the  real  original  “ Jerry  Rescue.” 

In  the  early  summer  of  1834,  there  came  to 
Austinburg,  Ohio,  a colored  man  of  middle  age,  of 
whose  escape  to  Ohio  tradition,  even,  gives  little  ac- 
count, only  that  he  was  the  property  of  a Baptist 
deacon  who  followed  him  in  close  pursuit.  Both 
parties  upon  the  ground, matters  became  marvellously 
lively  in  the  quiet  country  town. 


JO  NORTON. 


49 


Jerrf  was  shifted  from  place  to  place,  but  the 
deacon  would  in  some  way  get  a clue  to  his  where- 
abouts, and  another  move  would  be  made  to  thwart 
the  pursuer,  some  one  being  always  ready  to  ask 
him  what  he  would  take  for  the  man ; but  it  was 
always  with  him,  “ I want  the  nigger,  not  money.” 

Wearied  at  length  with  the  continued  baffling,  and 
believing  he  had  found  the  retreat  of  his  chattel,  the 
pious  deacon  went  to  Jefferson  and  secured  the  ser- 
vice of  Sheriff  Loomis  to  make  an  arrest.  The  twain 
came  upon  him  just  before  day-break,  but  not  to 
catch  him  napping.  He  was  up  and  off  just  in  time 
to  elude  their  grasp  but  not  until  they  caught  a 
glimpse  of  him  making  across  the  fields  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Eliphalet  Austin’s,  who  lived  near  where 
Grand  River  Institute  now  stands. 

Rapping  at  the  door,  Jerry  was  admitted  by  Mr. 
Austin,  who  was  just  in  the  act  of  dressing  himself. 
Reading  in  the  excited  manner  of  the  fugitive  the 
state  of  the  case,  Mr.  Austin  pointed  under  the 
family  bed  where  his  wife  still  lay.  Jerry  took  the 
hint,  and  in  a moment  was  hugging  the  wall  in  the 
darkest  corner  under  the  bed.  Mr.  Austin  quietly 
closed  the  bed-room  door,  started  a fire,  and  was  at 
the  well  drawing  a pail  of  water  when  the  pursuers 
came  up. 

“ Have  you  seen  my  nigger  this  morning  ? " 
queried  the  Deacon. 

“It  is  pretty  early  to  see  an  object  so  dark  as  a 
colored  man,  if  that  is  what  you  are  inquiring  about,” 
was  the  response. 


5° 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“Well,  early  as  it  is,  we  have  seen  him,  and  be- 
lieve he  is  secreted  in  your  house.” 

“Oh,  you  do,  do  you?  Well,  gentlemen,  you 
have  the  fullest  liberty  to  search  my  premises  and 
satisfy  yourselves,”  and,  whilst  the  sheriff  kept  watch 
without,  Mr.  Austin  furnished  the  Southerner  the 
most  abundant  opportunity  within.  Candle  in 
hand  he  led  the  way  to  the  cellar,  then  to  the  garret. 
The  children’s  bed-rooms  and  the  closets  of  the 
chamber,  the  parlor,  spare  bed-room  and  pantry  be- 
low were  all  carefully  examined,  but  no  Jerry  was 
found,  and  the  Deacon  apologetically  remarked : 
“ I beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Austin,  for  this  intrusion, 
and  for  the  injustice  I did  you  in  supposing  you 
were  harboring  my  slave.” 

“ What,”  said  Mr.  Austin,  who  was  also  a pious 
man  and  a licentiate  minister,  I hope  you  are  not 
through  looking  yet.” 

“ Why,  I have  been  all  over  the  house  already.” 

“ O no,  you  have  not  been  in  my  wife’s  bed-room 
yet,”  said  h.e  rather  sarcastically.  “Go  in,  Deacon. 
Wife  is  not  up  yet ; you  may  find  your  ‘ nigger  ’ 
with  her.” 

Dropping  his  head  in  very  shame,  the  Deacon  ex- 
cused himself,  and  going  out,  with  the  sheriff  rode 
off. 

As  soon  as  they  were  well  out  of  sight,  Jerry  was 
taken  to  the  woods  and  hidden  in  an  old  sugar 
house,  where  he  remained  for  some  days.  Mean- 
while time  and  perplexity  began  to  soften  the  Deacon, 


JO  NORTON. 


51 


and  he  finally  concluded  that  three  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  (S350)  in  hand  would  be  worth  more 
than  “ a nigger  on  foot,”  wThich  was  raised  and  paid 
over,  the  original  subscription  being  now  in  the 
hands  of  the  writer. 

The  money  paid  over  and  the  freedom  papers 
made  out,  the  Deacon  had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining 
an  interview  with  Jerry,  a meeting  very  satisfactory 
to  the  latter  personage,  now  that  he  could  meet  “ 01’ 
Massa  on  perfec’  ’quality  as  gemen.” 

There  were  two  ihings  connected  with  this  case 
which  the  sturdy  old  Austinburgers  always  regretted. 
The  one  was  that  as  the  work  of  purchase  was  com- 
pleted late  Saturday  afternoon,  the  Deacon  accepted 
the  proffered  hospitality  of  Mr.  Austin  for  the  Sab- 
bath, and  with  him  attended  church  in  the  old  his- 
toric “ meeting  house  ” at  the  Center,  where  the  Rev. 
Henry  Cowles  dispensed  the  gospel  in  the  form  of  a 
red-hot  anti-slavery  sermon,  to  which  the  Deacon 
listened  with  gr.eat  expressed  satisfaction  if  not  profit. 
During  the  evening  service,  some  unprincipaled  per- 
sons shaved  his  horse’s  main  and  tail,  which,  when 
known,  led  several  of  the  first  citizens  of  the  town  to 
save  its  reputation  and  show  their  appreciation  of 
the  gentlemanly  qualities  of  their  visitor,  by  giving 
him  in  exchange  for  his  disfigured  horse  one  equally 
good,  thus  sending  him  back  to  Dixie  with  a high 
regard  for  their  honesty,  as  well  as  sincerity. 

The  other  was,  Jerry,  once  a free  man,  went  to 
Conneaut  and  established  himself  as  a barber,  but 


52 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


unable  to  bear  prosperity,  he  soon  fell  into  habits  of 
drinking  and  dissipation,  thus  rendering  worthless 
the  investment  philanthropy  and  generosity  had 
made  in  him. 

The  following  is  the  subscription  referred  to  above, 
together  with  the  names  of  donors  and  the  amount 
given  so  far  as  they  can  be  deciphered : 


We  whose  names  are  hereto  affixed,  promise  to  pay  to  Eli- 
phalet  Austin  the  sums  put  to  our  names,  for  the  purpose  of 
liberating  from  slavery  a colored  man  whose  master  is  sup- 
posed to  be  in  pursuit,  and  offers  to  free  him  for  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars. 


Austinburg,  July  23,  1834. 
Eliphalet  & Aaron  E Austin. 
J.  Austin,  $40.00. 

J.  S.  Mills,  $2.00. 

A.  A.  Barr,  $1.00. 

G.  W.  St.  John,  $25.00. 
Luman  Whiting,  $2.00. 

I.  Hendry,  $5.00. 

Amos  Fisk,  $5.00. 

Daniel  Hubbard,  $1.00. 

Mr.  Sawtell,  $2.00. 

L.  M.  Austin,  $5.00. 

Dr.  A.  Hawley,  $2.00. 

Ward,  $5.00. 

Jefferson,  $20.00. 


Orestes  K.  Hawley,  $50. 
L.  Bissell,  $20.00. 

T.  H.  Wells,  $3  00. 
Harvey  Ladd,  Jr.,  $2.00. 
James  Sillak,  $3.00 
Benjamin  Whiting,  $1.00. 
Giddings  & Wade,  $ro. 
Russell  Clark„  $2.00. 
Henry  Harris,  $1.00. 

E.  Austin,  Jr.,  $15.00. 
Ros.  Austin,  $5.00. 

W.  Webb,  Jr,  $5.00. 
Henry,  $5.00. 

A Friend,  50  cents. 


The  $20.00  from  Jefferson  was  a kind  of  religious 
collection. 


A COOL  WOMAN. 

Apropos  the  deliberation  of  Mr.  Austin,  there 
comes  an  incident  from  southern  Ohio  illustrating 


JO  NORTON. 


53 


how  cool  a woman  may  be  in  case  of  emergency.  A 
slave  named  Zach  had  escaped  from  Virginia  and 
was  resting  and  recuperating  himself  in  the  family 
of  a benevolent  man  in  one  of  the  southern  counties 
previously  to  pursuing  his  onward  course,  when  one 
evening  the  house  was  surrounded  by  his  owner  and 
a number  of  other  men,  and  the  right  of  searching 
the  premises  demanded.  The  husband  was  much 
agitated  and  appealed  to  his  wife  to  know  what  was 
to  be  done. 

“ Why,”  said  she,  “ let  them  in,  and  search  the 
lower  part  of  the  house  first,  and  leave  Zack  to  me.” 

“ But  I tell  you,  wife,  the  man  can’t  be  got  off 
without  being  caught.” 

“ Don’t  I know  that?  Do  as  I say.” 

The  husband  took  her  advice,  and  -whilst  he  was 
leading  a searching  party  through  the  cellar  and 
lower  rooms  of  the  house,  she  placed  the  fugitive 
carefully  between  the  feather  and  straw  ticks  of  the 
family  bed,  and  by  the  time  the  posse  reached  the 
room  she  was  composedly  in  "bed  as  though  nothing- 
unusual  was  transpiring.  The  result  was  that  the 
search  proved  a bootless  one,  and  the  whole  party 
left,  believing  they  had  been  misdirected  by  some 
one  bent  on  deceiving  them. 


CHAPTER  II. 


JACK  WATSON. 

FIFTY  years  ago  there  lived  in  Caldwell  County, 
Kentucky,  a well-to-do  individual  named  Wil- 
son. He  owned  a large  estate,  to  which  was  attached 
numerous  slaves.  Such  wras  the  character  of  the 
master  that  bondage  sat  lightly  upon  them.  Provi- 
dent and  indulgent,  Mr.  Wilson  allowed  his  people 
to  do  largely  as  they  chose.  To  them  the  words  of 
the  old  plantation  song, 

“ Hang  up  de  shubel  and  de  hoe.” 
had  much  of  reality. 

Strangers  came  and  went  among  them  freely ; 
they  heard  much  of  the  ways  of  escape  northward, 
of  which  many  from  plantations  surrounding  them 
availed  themselves,  but  the  bonds  of  affection  were 
so  strong  between  Mr.  Wilson  and  his  people  that  no 
effort  was  ever  made  on  the  part  of  the  latter  to  es- 
cape. But  things  were  not  always  to  remain  thus. 
In  1853,  Mr.  Wilson  sickened  and  died,  a circum- 
stance which  brought  not  only  grief  but  consterna- 
tion to  his  “ people.”  for  they  soon  learned  they  were 
to  be  divided  among  the  heirs.  Jack  and  Nannie,  a 
brother  and  sister  who  had  grown  up  on  the  estate 
tenderly  attached  to  each  other  and  to  their  old 


A SLAVE  HUNT. 


JACK  WATSON. 


55 


master,  fell  to  the  lot  of  a drunken  and  licentious 
man  named  Watson,  who  took  them  to  his  farm  in 
Davies  County,  not  far  from  the  Ohio  River.  Here, 
as  common  field  hands,  they  were  brutally  treated, 
and  soon  began  to  plan  means  of  escape.  Before 
these  were  consummated  the  old  cook  died,  and 
Nannie,  who  was  of  attractive  form  and  manners, 
was  taken  from  the  field  to  fill  her  place.  This  only 
added  to  the  degradation  of  her  condition,  for  she 
was  now  continually  called  upon  to  repel  the  lecher- 
ous advances  of  her  brutal  master.  As  a punishment 
for  this  she  was  at  length  placed  in  close  confine- 
ment from  which  her  brother  succeeded  in  freeing 
her.  They  set  out  at  once  for  the  river,  hoping  to 
escape,  but  were  soon  overtaken,  brought  back  and 
so  cruelly  whipped  by  Watson,  that  Nannie  soon 
died  from  the  effects. 

The  sight  of  his  lacerated,  dying  sister,  the  only 
tie  that  bound  him  to  earth,  continually  haunted 
Jack,  and  he  vowed  escape,  and  vengeance  if  it  were 
possible.  His  plans  were  carefully  laid.  In  per- 
ambulating the  numerous  swamps  in  the  neighbor- 
hood whose  outlets  led  to  the  river,  he  had  discovered 
a hollow  tree  broken  off  some  twenty  feet  above  the 
surrounding  water.  By  climbing  an  adjacent  sap- 
pling  he  discovered  that  the  hollow  within  the  stub 
would  furnish  a secure  and  comfortable  retreat, 
should  necessity  require.  By  divers  acts  of  planta- 
tion civility  he  had  gained  the  confidence  of  “ Uncle 
Jake  ” and  “ Aunt  Mary,”  an  old  couple  who 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


56 


sympathized  deeply  with  him,  and  promised  him  any 
aid  in  their  power,  provided  it  was  such  as  “ Massa’ll 
neber  "know.”  All  Jack  asked  was  that  in  case  he 
disappeared,  they  should  set  the  third  night  after  his 
disappearance  something  to  eat  on  a shelf  where  he 
could  reach  it,  and  every  fourth  night  thereafter  until 
it  should,  for  two  successive  times,  be  untaken.  He 
also  gave  them  in  keeping  a package  of  cayenne 
pepper  to  be  placed  with  the  edibles.  In  his  visits 
to  the  river  he  had  noted  the  fastenings  of  the  skiffs, 
and  had  provided  himself  with  both  a file  and  an 
iron  bar  which  would  serve  the  double  purpose  as  a 
means  of  defense  and  for  drawing  a staple.  These 
he  carefully  secreted  in  his  prospective  retreat,  wait- 
ing only  an  opportunity  to  occupy  it. 

Such  an  opportunity  was  not  long  in  presenting 
itself,  for  one  night  the  master  came  home  late  from 
a drunken  revel,  and  found  Jack  awaiting  him  as 
ordered.  Becoming  enraged  at  some  supposed  act  of 
disobedience,  he  flew  at  Jack  with  an  open  knife. 
The  hour  of  vengeance  had  come.  Seizing  a hoe, 
with  a single  stroke  Jack  felled  him  to  the  ground,  a 
lifeless  form.  A moment  only  he  waited  to  view 
the  gaping  wound — to  compare  it  with  poor  Nan — 
then  gathering  up  a few  things  that  he  could,  he  was 
off  with  the  fleetness  of  a deer.  Passing  two  or 
three  miles  down  the  country,  he  entered  the  outlet 
of  the  swamp,  and  after  passing  down  it  for  some 
distance,  keeping  so  near  the  shore  as  to  make  his 
tracks  observable,  he  struck  in,  directly  reversing  his 


JACK  WATSON. 


57 


footsteps,  and  before  the  dawn  was  safely  ensconsed 
in  his  selected  tower. 

Morning  came  and  with  it  the  knowledge  of  Wat- 
son’s death.  The  cause  was  easily  divined — there 
was  the  bloody  hoe,  and  Jack,  who  was  left  to  wait 
his  coming,  was  gone.  Blood  hounds  and  fierce 
men  were  soon  upon  his  trail.  His  course  was 
easily  traced  to  the  brook,  and  his  descending  foot- 
steps discerned,  but  no  trace  of  him  could  be  dis- 
covered beyond  that.  The  greater  part  thought  he 
had  reached  the  river,  and  escaped  to  the  Indiana 
shore  by  swdmming,  at  which  he  was  an  expert,  or 
had  been  drowned  in  the  attempt.  Others  believed 
his  footsteps  only  a decoy  and  searched  all  the  ad- 
jacent swamps,  sometimes  passing  very  near  him,  but 
all  in  vain.  Flaming  posters,  advertising  him,  were 
sent  broadcast,  and  slave-catchers  on  both  sides  of 
the  river  were  on  the  alert. 

On  the  second  day  a great  concourse  assembled  at 
Watson’s  funeral.  There  were  many  conjectures, 
and  much  argument,  and  loud  swearing  about  the 
“nigger  ” who  had  done  the  deed,  and  as  a means  of 
intimidating  the  weeping — none  mere  so  than  Uncle 
Jake  and  Aunt  Mary — chattels  gathered  around, 
terrible  things  were  promised  Jack  should  he  be 
caught. 

The  services  over,  the  crowd  dispersed,  and  the 
next  morning  all  hands  were  set  to  work  as  usual. 
At  night  when  all  was  quiet,  Aunt  Mary,  whose  cabin 
was  the  farthest  of  any  from  the  “ mansion,”  placed 


58 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


a liberal  ration  of  hoe  cake  and  bacon,  together  with 
the  pepper,  upon  the  designated  shelf,  and  betook 
herself  to  the  side  of  Uncle  Jake  who  was  already 
resting  his  weary  limbs  in  the  land  of  forgetfulness. 
Shortly  after  midnight  a hand  was  thrust  cautiously 
through  the  open  window,  the  packages  were  softly 
lifted,  a little  pepper  was  deftly  sifted  in  retreating 
footsteps,  and  in  a short  time  Jack  was  safe  again  in 
his  water-shut  abode,  and  when  old  uncle  and  auntie 
were  talking  of  the  “wun’ful  ang’l  ” that  had  visited 
the  house  that  night,  Jack  was  quietly  enjoying  a 
morning  nap. 

Several  weeks  passed,  the  excitement  about  Wat- 
son had  measurably  died  away,  two  successive  de- 
positions of  provisions  had  been  left  untouched  and 
the  good  old  couple  knew  “ Dat  de  angel  was  feedin’ 
Jack  no  moa’,  like  de  rabens  fed  ol’  ’ Lijer.”  They 
were  sure,  “ Jack  am  safe.” 

Taking  his  appliances,  Jack  had  descended  the 
outlet  some  distance  one  starlight  night,  and  then 
striking  across  the  country,  had  reached  the  river 
just  below  the  little  village  he  had  been  accustomed 
to  visit  before  the  death  of  his  sister.  The  finding 
of  a skiff  and  the  wrenching  away  of  the  fastening 
occupied  but  a short  time  and  at  daylight  he  was 
safely  secreted  in  an  Indiana  forest.  Knowledge 
previously  gained  enabled  him  soon  to  put  himself 
in  charge  of  an  underground  official,  but  instead  of 
making  direct  for  Canada  he  shipped  for  the  Quaker 
settlement  near  Salem,  Ohio,  of  which  he  had  heard 


JACK  WATSON. 


59 


much  from  a fruit  tree  dealer  before  the  death  of 
Mr.  Wilson,  and  ultimately,  in  the  quaint  home  of 
Edward  Bonsall  found  a secure  asylum,  and  in  his 
nurseries  desirable  employment,  so  far  from  his 
former  home  that  little  disturbed  his  mind  except 
the  frequent  recurring  remembrances  of  his  slain 
master  with  the  cruelly  lacerated  form  of  his  sister 
ever  rising  in  justification  of  the  summary  punish- 
ment that  had  been  inflicted  upon  him. 

II. 

In  the  autumn  of  1856,  Jack  went  with  Mr.  Bon- 
sall to  Pittsburgh.  Whilst  walking  along  the  street, 
he  met  face  to  face  a half-brother  of  his  late  master. 
At  first  sight  he  thought  it  an  apparition  and  turned 
and  ran  rapidly  away,  but  not  until  he  was  himself 
recognized.  So  dextrous  had  been  his  motions  that 
he  eluded  the  pursuit  immediately  instituted  and 
was  soon  among  the  hills  beyond  the  city  limits. 

Hand  bills  minutely  describing  him  were  again 
widely  circulated,  particularly  along  the  belt  of 
country  bordering  the  Pittsburgh  and  Erie  canal,  as  it 
was  argued  he  would  try  and  make  his  escape  by  that 
route  to  Canada,  and  all  the  appliances  of  an  odious 
law  were  called  into  requisition  to  secure  his  appre- 
hension. 

III. 

Rap,  rap,  rap,  came  a knuckle  against  the  door 
of  Thomas  Douglass,  of  Warren,  Ohio,  in  the  silent 


6o 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


hours  of  the  night.  Such  occurrences  were  not  fre- 
quent of  late  at  the  home  of  the  honest  Englishman 
whose  love  of  justice  and  humanity  had  risen  above 
all  fear  of  the  pains  and  penalties  of  an  unrighteous 
law.  Hastily  dressing  himself,  he  inquired,  “Who 
comes  ? ” 

“ 01’  Diligence,”  a name  recognized  at  once  by  Mr. 
Douglass  as  the  appelation  of  a colored  conductor 
from  Youngstown. 

“ Hall  right ; wat’s  aboard  ? ” 

“Subjec’,  Massa  Douglass,  and  hard  pressed,  too.” 

“’Ard  pressed  his  ’e?  Well,  come  in.” 

The  door  ivas  opened,  a brief  explanation  followed, 
and  Jack  Watson  and  “Old  Diligence”  were  con- 
signed to  a good  bed  for  the  night.  In  the  morning 
his  faithful  guide,  who  had  himself  escaped  from 
bondage  many  years  before  gave  Jack  some  money, 
a supply  of  which  he  always  had  in  hand,  and  left 
him  with  the  emphatic  assurance,  “Massa  Douglass 
am  a true  man.”  But  Jack  was  hard  to  be  assured, 
and  when  seated  at  breakfast  with  the  master  ma- 
chinist’s hands,  he  trembled  like  an  aspen. 

Three  gentlemen,  Levi  Sutliff,  John  Hutchins  and 
John  M.  Stull  had  been  early  summoned  to  devise 
the  best  means  for  forwarding  Jack  safely.  The  two 
former  of  these  had  been  long  experienced  operators; 
the  latter  was  rather  a novice  at  the  business.  A few 
years  previously,  an  ambitious  young  man,  he  had 
gone  south  as  a teacher,  thinking  little  and  caring 
less  about  the  “peculiar  institution.”  He  had  been 


JACK  WATSON. 


6l 


in  Kentucky  but  a short  time  when  a slave  auction 
was  advertised  and  his  Buckeye  inquisitiveness 
prompted  him  to  witness  it.  Two  or  thx-ee  children 
were  struck  off  and  then  the  mother,  a well  formed, 
good-looking  octaroon,  was  put  upon  the  block. 

“ Now,  gentlemen,”  said  the  auctioneer,  a hard- 
shelled  Baptist  preacher,  “ I offer  you  a valuable 
piece  of  property.  She’s  a good  cook ; can  make 
clothes,  or  handle  a hoe  as  well  as  a man.  She’s  a 
healthy  woman,  gentlemen,  an  more’n  that,  she’s  a 
Christian.  Gentlemen,  she’s  a member  of  my  own 
congregation.” 

The  buyers  crowded  around.  They  examined 
her  teeth,  her  hands,  her  feet,  her  limbs  as  though 
she  had  been  a horse  on  sale. 

Our  spectator  began  to  feel  himself  getting  white 
in  the  face,  and  swear  words  were  rising  in  his 
throat,  and  he  beat  a hasty  retreat. — John  was  under 
conviction. 

A few  mornings  after  our  young  teacher  was 
wakened  by  the  sound  of  heavy  blows  and  cries  of 
pain  proceeding  from  another  part  of  the  hotel. 
That  evening  when  Harry,  the  boy  appointed  his 
special  waiter,  came  to  his  room,  Mr.  Stull  cautiously 
inquired  who  had  been  punished  in  the  morning. 

“Dat  was  me  Massa.  De  ol’  boss  gib’d  me  a 
buckin.” 

“ What  was  the  trouble,  Harry,  and  what  is  a 
bucking  ? ” 

“ Why  Lor’  bress  you,  Massa,  dis  chile  slep’  jus’  a 


62 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


minit  too  long,  an’  de  ol’  boss  cum’d  wid  his  ‘buck,’ 
a board  wid  a short  han’t  and  full  ob  holes,  an’  he 
bent  Harry  ober,  like  for  to  spank  a chil’,  an’  o Lor’ 
how  he  struck.”  (Then  lowering  his  voice,)  “ Say, 
Massa  Stull,  can  you  tell  de  Norf  star  ? ” 

The  boy  had  been  all  care,  attention  and  manli- 
ness. The  soul  of  the  teacher  was  fully  aroused. — 
Stull  was  converted. 

Waiting  the  coming  of  these  gentlemen,  Jack  had 
gone  into  the  back  yard,  and  when  they  arrived  he 
was  nowhere  to  be  found.  A prolonged  search  failed 
to  reveal  his  whereabouts,  and  when  at  length  night 
fell  kind  Mrs.  Douglass  placed  an  ample  plate  of 
provisions  in  the  back  kitchen  and  continued  it  for 
several  weeks,  hoping  he  might  return,  but  no  angel 
ever  spirited  a particle  of  it  away. 

IV. 

Years  ago,  even  before  Wendell  Phillips,  Abbey 
Kelley  and  others  of  their  school  began  to  hurl  their 
bitter  anathemas  at  the  institution  of  slavery,  there 
lived  upon  a far-reaching  Virginia  plantation  in  the 
valley  of  the  James  a man  who  had  taken  a truly 
comprehensive  and  patriotic  view  of  the  institution 
that  was  blighting  the  reputation  of  his  state,  as  well 
as  impoverishing  her  soil.  He  had  inherited  his 
fine  estate,  encumbered  by  a large  number  of  slaves, 
and  his  soul  revolted  at  the  idea  of  holding  them  in 
bondage.  A man  of  fine  physique,  commanding- 
mien  and  superior  intellectual  endowments,  John 


JACK  WATSON. 


63 


Young  could  not  brook  the  idea  of  eating  bread  that 
savored  of  the  sweat  of  another’s  brow,  and  the 
thought  of  living  amid  the  withering,  blighting 
scenes  of  slave  labor  and  slave  traffic  was  not  at  all 
congenial  to  his  tastes.  Casting  about,  he  soon  found 
a purchaser  for  his  broad  acres.  Before  disposing  of 
his  plantation,  however,  he  made  a trip  into  western 
Pennsylvania,  and  in  Mercer  county,  on  the  rich 
bottoms  of  Indian  run,  made  purchase  of  an  exten- 
sive tract  of  valuable  land.  Returning  to  the  Old 
Diminion,  he  at  once  concluded  the  sale  of  his  estate, 
and  vowed  his  intention  of  going  North. 

His  friends  were  amazed  at  the  idea  of  his  becom- 
ing a “ Pennymite  ” farmer,  and  his  people  were  thrown 
into  consternation,  as  they  expected  soon  to  be  ex- 
posed on  the  auction  block.  The  sallies  of  one  class 
he  easily  parried ; the  fear  of  the  other  he  quickly 
allayed  by  calling  them  together  and  presenting  them 
with  freedom  papers.  There  was  a moment  of 
silence,  of  blank  astonishment,  and  then  arose  shouts, 
and  cries,  and  hallelujahs  to  God,  amid  laughter  and 
tears,  for  this  wonderful  deliverance. 

When  the  excitement  had  somewhat  subsided  the 
late  master  revealed  to  them  the  fact  that  he  was  go- 
ing north  where  it  was  respectable  for  a white  man 
to  labor,  and  if  any  of  them  should  ever  come  his 
way  they  would  see  him  chopping  his  own  wood  and 
hoeing  his  own  corn,  and  that  they  were  now  free  to 
go  where  they  chose,  only  they  must  see  they  did 
not  lose  their  papers. 


64 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


Bress  de  good  Lor’,  Massa,  we’ll  go  wid  you  to 
dat  new  plantashun  and  be  spect’ble  too,  and  make 
light  work  for  ol’  Massa.” 

Though  foreign  to  the  purpose  of  Mr.  Young,  he 
yielded  to  the  importunity  of  those  he  had  manu- 
mitted, and  soon  there  appeared  on  the  Pennsyl- 
vania purchase  a spacious  residence,  built  rather  in 
the  Virginia  style,  and  around  it  were  grouped  numer- 
ous cabins,  occupied  by  the  sable  colony  that  had 
followed  the  Caucassian  proprietor.  The  family 
equipage  was  brought  along,  and  Alexander  John- 
son always  persisted  in  being  Massa’s  coachman  and 
driving  him  in  state. 

The  farm  improved  rapidty  under  the  guidance  of 
intelligence,  aided  by  paid  labor,  and  John  Young’s 
house  soon  became  known  as  a hospitable  home,  and 
to  none  more  so  than  to  the  fugitive  from  bondage, 
for  he  early  became  an  influential  agent  on  the  great 
thoroughfare  to  Canada. 

Securing  the  aid  of  a few  neighbors  and  friends, 
rather  as  a matter  of  compliment  than  otherwise, 
Mr.  Young  had  erected,  at  a convenient  site,  a nice 
country  chapel,  now  a Methodist  church  in  which  the 
writer  has  been  privileged  to  speak,  and  here  the  people 
of  the  neighborhood,  white  and  black,  met  for  worship. 

The  Sabbath  evening  service  in  this  little  church 
had  closed  and  the  speaker,  J.  W.  Loguen,  an  elo- 
quent man,  though  a former  fugitive  from  slavery, 
but  at  that  time  pastor  of  a Baptist  church  in  Syra- 
cuse, N.  Y.,  and  largely  engaged  in  the  underground 


JACK  WATSON. 


65 


transit  business,  sat  conversing  with  Mr.  Young,  in 
the  home  of  the  latter  gentleman,  when  Uncle  ’Lee, 
as  the  old  coachman  was  familiarly  called,  entered 
and  excitedly  exclaimed,  “ Mass  Young,  him  am 
come,  him  am  come.” 

“ Who  has  come,  Alec  ? ” queried  the  host  kindly. 

“ Wh,  Massa,  dat  runaway  wot  de  han’  vill  tell 
bout,  an’  him  am  fearfu’  scar’  an’  no  mistake,  fo’  he 
say  de  catchers  am  arter  him  shua.” 

“Bring  him  in,  Alec,”  said  Mr.  Young,  and  in  a 
moment  more  there  was  ushered  into  the  room  a 
tall,  muscular  colored  man,  bearing  evident  traces  of 
white  blood  and  answering  fully  the  description  of 
Jack  Watson.  His  story,  other  than  what  we  have 
already  learned,  was  that  at  Warren,  being  suspicious 
of  so  many  white  men,  he  had  gone  out  of  the  back 
yard  of  Mr.  Douglass  and  a short  distance  along  the 
canal  and  secreted  himself  until  night  in  an  old 
ware-house,  still  well  remembered  as  bearing  the  in- 
scription, “ Forwarding  and  Commission.  M.  B. 
Taylor  & Co.”  In  the  evening  he  had  struck  out  for 
Indian  Run,  of  which  Old  Diligence  had  told  him. 
He  had  traveled  all  the  night,  but  not  being  able  to 
reach  his  destination,  had  lain  secreted  during  the 
day,  and  now  hungry  and  fearful  he  appealed  to  Mr. 
Young  for  food  and  protection,  both  of  which  were 
readily  accorded. 

After  the  cravings  of  appetite  had  been  satisfied,  a 
conference  was  held,  and  it  was  decided  that  Jack 
should  try  and  make  Syracuse,  after  which  Mr. 


66 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


Loguen  would  assure  both  safety  and  employment. 
Owing  to  the  well-known  character  of  Mr.  Young 
and  his  attaches,  and  unmistakable  evidences  of 
close  pursuit  that  had  preceded  Jack’s  coming,  it 
was  further  determined  to  forward  him  at  once  to 
“ Safe  Haven.”  In  accordance  with  this  decision  the 
family  carriage,  an  imposing  piece  of  “rolling  stock,” 
soon  stood  at  the  door  with  ’Lee  consequentially 
seated  upon  the  box.  A moment  later,  Jack,  Mr. 
Loguen,  and  stalwart  John  Young  emerged  from  the 
mansion,  and  as  they  took  their  seats  in  the  carriage) 
Mr.  Young  said:  “Now,  Alec,  look  well  to  your 
lines  and  remember  the  ‘ Haven  ’ is  to  be  made  be- 
fore daylight.” 

“Yes,  Massa,  dis  ol’  chile  keep  an  eye  to  de  lines, 
de  road,  an’  anyting  ’spicuous,  an’  rouse  up  ol’ 
missus  long  afor’  de  chicken’  ’gin  to  crow,”  saying 
which,  he  gave  a gentle  chirrup  and  the  carriage 
went  rolling  away  to  the  northward. 

V. 

Whoever  was  accustomed,  a third  of  a century 
ago,  to  travel  over  the  road  from  Warren,  0.,  to 
Meadville,  Pa.,  will  remember  a wayside  inn,  whose 
sign  bore  in  German  character  the  euphonious  name 
of  “ Aughfeultwangher  House.”  The  house  itself, 
like  its  name,  was  of  German  origin,  a genuine  ex- 
ample of  a Dutch  farm  house,  bespeaking  both  com- 
fort and  thrift.  The  occupants  were  of  the  same 
name  as  the  house,  the  proprietor  being  an  honest,. 


JACK  WATSON. 


67 


quiet,  well-meaning  man,  with  no  special  personality. 
Not  so  his  better  half,  however.  She  was  a character 
— a decided  personality.  Kind  and  generous,  she 
had  a temper,  which  when  let  loose  became  a very 
tornado.  She  was  neat  and  tidy  as  a housekeeper, 
and  unexcelled  as  a cook.  A regular  embodiment 
of  piety  and  profanity  ; of  sympathy  and  execration  ; 
of  wit,  repartee  and  scurrilous  invective,  her  very 
off-handedness  made  the  house  immensely  popular 
with  drovers  and  road-men,  and  it  was  quoted  from 
the  prairies  of  the  west  to  the  Quaker  City  itself; 
and  many  is  the  man  who  has  traveled  an  extra  five 
miles  to  gain  the  hospitable  roof  of  the  “ Awful- 
tricker  House,”  as  it  came  to  be  called  by  those  who 
failed  to  accomplish  the  German  of  it. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  without  and  the  within 
of  the  place,  a little  personal  experience  is  intro- 
duced. At  the  end  of  a bleak  November  day,  I 
found  myself  taking  the  advice  of  a friend  and  mak- 
ing an  extra  exertion  with  jaded  beast,  in  order  to 
enjoy  the  hospitality  of  the  “ Aughfeultwangher.” 
Knowing  the  reputation  of  the  hostess  I greeted  her 
with  : “ Well,  Auntie,  can  you  keep  a stranger  to- 

night? ” 

Looking  at  me  with  a quizical  expression  and 
evidently  pleased  at  the  appellation  used,  she  re- 
plied : “ Dot  is  von  long  face  to  keeps  all  in  von 

house.” 

“ 0,  well,  never  mind,  I can  let  a part  of  it  stay  in 
the  bam.” 


68 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“Veil,  I guess  Ave  growds  es  all  in  deni  house,” 
and  running  to  the  back  door,  she  called  out,  “ Fater, 
fater,  here  hist  einer  mann,  unt  ein  pferd  ATas  Shine- 
ral  Shackson  rote.  Nehms  du  es  dem  stolle  vilst  Ich 
das  abend  essen  for  dem  manne  erhalten.” 

Obedient  to  the  summons  the  host  came  at  once, 
and  took  the  wearied  beast,  whilst  I was  ushered 
into  the  little  bar-room,  whose  well-filled  box-stove 
was  sending  out  a genial  warmth,  and  away  went 
the  sprightly  dame  to  prepare  supper,  whose  savory 
odors  soon  filled  the  house. 

Directly  the  door  into  the  great  family  kitchen 
opened,  and  I did  not  wait  for  a repitition  of  the 
hearty  “ Coome  Meister,  your  supper  hist  ready.” 
Entering,  I found  the  room  seated  after  the  German 
style,  and  was  greeted  with  the  sight  of  a great,  open 
fire-place,  with  its  bake-oven  and  pot-hole  attach- 
ment. Upon  the  table  were  rich  slices  of  ham,  eggs, 
bread,  such  as  only  a genuine  German  woman  can 
bake,  and  other  things  in  abundance.  When  I was 
seated  and  the  good  woman  had  poured  out  a cup  of 
delicious  cotfee,  she  took  a chair  opposite,  and  after 
eying  me  a moment,  inquired  : 

“ Veil,  Meister,  var  from  you  come?  ” 

“ From  Ohio,  auntie.” 

“You  bist  von  Yankee,  then.” 

“ No,  I’m  a Buckeye.” 

“ Von  Puckeye  ! vas  ish  dat,  eh?  ” 

“ One  born  in  Ohio.” 

“ Unt  vas  your  fater  ein  Sherman?  ” 


JACK  WATSON. 


69 


“ No,  auntie,  but  my  grandfather  was.” 

“0  your  grossfater.  Veil,  I tot  dare  vas  some 
Shermeny  blud ; dot  lickt  hair  und  blau  eyes  zint 
der  sign,  meister.” 

“ Well,  auntie,  ’tis  not  bad  blood,  is  it.” 

“ 0 nein.  Mein  Got,  es  ist  dot  best,  but  das 
Yankee  is  shust  so  goot,”  to  which  of  course  I 
assented,  with  the  remark  that  the  two  together  are 
a little  better,  thus  causing  the  old  lady  to  laugh 
outright. 

After  a moment’s  pause,  in  which  there  seemed  to 
be  a studying  of  what  tactics  to  pursue,  she  said, 
“ Veil,  meister,  it  bist  none  of  my  pisness,  but  vas 
you  stoon  in  das  velt  ? ” 

Wishing  to  make  a fine  conquest,  I summoned 
what  little  German  I could  muster  and  replied, 
“Ich  bin  einer  school-meister.” 

“ Got  in  himmel ! du  bist  einer  schulmeister,  0 
Ich  vish  de  kinder  vare  to  house — ” 

Just  then  the  host  came  in,  and  there  was  a rapid 
discharge  of  pure  German  between  them,  the  outcome 
of  which  was  a passing  of  a very  pleasant  evening, 
though  the  English  on  the  one  side  and  the  German 
on  the  other  were  both  very  broken,  and  when  the 
hour  for  retiring  came  I was  escorted  by  the  old 
couple  to  what  was  evidently  the  best  room  in  the 
house.  Approaching  the  bed  the  hostess  laid  back  a 
fine  feather  tick,  revealing  sheets  of  snowy  whiteness 
overspreading  another,  and  then  with  a feeling  of 
conscious  pride  exclaimed,  “Dot,  Her  Schulmeister, 


70 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


is  mine  bester  bett,  unt  do  canst  schlafen  on  der  top, 
in  der  mittel  or  unter  das  bett,  shust  as  you  bleze. 
Guten  abent.” 

Such  was  the  house,  such  were  the  Aughfeult- 
wanghers,  with  the  addition  of  being  Jacksonian 
Democrats  of  the  straightest  sect,  the  least  likely 
people,  apparently,  to  have  any  sympathy  with  the 
underground  work,  yet  shrewd  John  Young,  ever 
fertile  in  expedients,  had  approached  this  couple,  and 
as  a result  of  the  conference  there  was  arranged  a 
snug  little  room  over  and  back  of  the  oven  with  the 
way  of  entry  by  the  pot-hole.  This  room  was  never 
to  be  occupied  but  by  one  individual,  and  he  was  to 
be  brought  by  Mr.  Young  in  person,  who  was  also  to 
provide  for  the  taking  away.  In  view  of  these  facts 
he  had  christened  the  place  “ Safe  Haven,”  and  its 
existence,  outside  of  the  family,  was  known  only  to 
himself,  Alec  and  one  or  two  others  of  his  retainers 
and  “ Mose  ” Bishop,  a tall,  slim  man,  residing  at 
Linesville,  having  a perfect  hatred  of  creeds  and 
cant,  but  an  enthusiastic  supporter  of  every  cause 
demanding  sympathy  and  justice,  and  who  on  ac- 
count of  his  Jehu  style  of  driving,  was  known  along 
the  road  as  “ The  Lightning  Conductor.” 

VI. 

True  to  his  promise,  before  the  first  cock  had 
sounded  the  approaching  morn  on  that  late  October 
night,  Alec  reined  up  at  the  Aughfeultwangher,  and 
Mr.  Young,  alighting,  rapped  at  the  door,  and  all 


JACK  WATSON. 


71 


questions  being  satisfactorily  answered,  Jack  was 
admitted,  and  the  carriage  rolled  rapidly  down  to 
the  little  village  at  the  foot  of  Conneaut  lake,  and  at 
the  hotel  breakfast  was  ordered  for  men  and  beasts. 

Having  washed  themselves,  they  were  waiting  the 
progress  of  culinary  processes  in  the  kitchen,  mean- 
while regailing  themselves  by  reading  the  hand-bill 
advertising  Jack,  which  was  conspicuously  posted  in 
the  bar-room,  when  two  horsemen,  one  a constable 
from  Mercer  county,  rode  up  and  also  ordered  break- 
fast and  feed  for  their  horses. 

The  constable  and  Mr.  Young  readily  recognized 
each  other,  and  though  no  word  was  pased  it  was  evi- 
dent to  each  that  his  business  was  understood  by  his 
neighbor,  hence  the  breakfast  passed  in  silence,  and 
when  his  bill  was  settled,  the  carriage  of  the  ex- 
Virginian  took  a homeward  direction. 

No  sooner  was  it  gone  than  the  constable  remarked 
to  Boniface,  “I  have  been  after  that  turnout  all  night. 
When  it  started  there  was  a passenger  in  it,  answer- 
ing to  that  bill  there.” 

“ You’ve  been  making  the  old  fellow  a close  call,” 
said  the  landlord,  “ but  you’ll  find  him  a hard  one 
to  handle.” 

Yes;  but  if  I could  catch  the  nigger,  the  $500 
wouldn’t  come  bad.  We  have  been  close  on  his 
track  for  several  days.  We  know  he  was  at  Young’s 

last  night  but  where  in  the  d he  is  now  is  the 

question.” 

“ Dropped  somewhere,  likely.” 


72 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“ Yes,  dropped.  Old  Alec  was  too  much  for  us, 
and  we  lost  the  trail.  From  which  direction  did 
they  come  ? ” 

“ From  towards  Meadville.” 

“ Do  you  know  any  station  that  he  could  have 
touched  ? ” 

“No,  unless  Aughfeultwaugher’s.” 

“ Awfultricker’s  ! ha ! ha  ! Upon  my  life  that  is  a 
bright  idea.  Why  the  old  woman  would  make  even 
Young  think  the  day  of  judgment  had  come  if  he 
were  to  bring  a nigger  to  her  home.” 

• “ So  I would  have  thought  once,  and  so  I am  dis- 
posed to  think  now,  but  I have  sometimes  thought 
his  bland  manners  have  overcome  her  Democracy 
and  that  somewhere  about  the  premises  there  is  a 
station;  yet  ’tis  all  guess  work  with  me.  I give  you 
the  information ; if  you,  gentlemen,  can  make  $500 
out  of  it,  you  are  welcome  to  the  fee.” 

After  a short  consultation  between  the  constable 
and  the  stranger,  a regular  catcher  who  had  under- 
taken to  capture  Jack,  they  ordered  their  horses  and 
were  off  towards  the  Aughfeultwangher. 

VII. 

Immediately  on  receiving  Jack  into  the  house,  the 
good  landlady  supplied  him  with  an  ample  dish  of 
provisions  and  removing  the  dye  tub  and  other  ob- 
structions from  the  pot-hole  pointed  him  to  her  bed- 
room for  “zingle  shentlemens,”  and  when  he  had 
disappeared,  she  replaced  her  pots  and  kettels,  taking 


JACK  WATSON. 


73 


care  to  place  the  dye  tub  in  which  the  yarn  for 
family  stockings  were  receiving  its  finishing  tint  of 
blue,  in  the  very  mouth  of  the  hole.  This  done  she 
went  about  her  morning  duties  and  was  thus  busily 
engaged  when  the  two  horsemen  rode  up,  dismounted 
and  came  in.  After  paying  the  compliments  of  the 
morning  and  taking  a drink,  the  constable  inquired, 
“ Has  Mr.  Young  been  here  this  morning?  ” 

“Mister  Yoong,  vat  Yoong  you  means?” 

“ John  Young.” 

“ Vat,  dot  Shon  Yoong  fon  town  in  Merzer 
gounty? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ 0 ya,  er  trive  up  unt  vater  ees  team.” 

“ Was  there  anybody  with  him  ? ” 

“ 0 ya,  dot  black  Alec  alvays  goes  mit  him.” 

“ Did  you  see  anybody  get  out  ? ” 

“ Nein.” 

“ And  he  didn’t  leave  anyone  here?  ” 

“ Veil,  shentelmens,  dot  is  is  von  great  kweschon. 
You  tinks  I have  von  of  tern  niggers  pout  here. 
You  shall  zee.  Now,  shentetmens,  you  looks  all 
apout ; you  shall  shust  go  in  te  barn  and  dru  dis 
house  shust  as  you  blese.  Den  you  knows  if  Shon 
Young  leaves  von  black  mans  here.” 

So  saying  the  old  lady  led  them  through  the  barn 
and  all  parts  of  the  house  until  the  kitchen  was 
reached.  Here  she  bade  them  look  into  the  oven, 
and  then  that  they  might  peer  into  the  pot-hole  she 
began  removing  the  dye  tub,  but  in  so  doing  was 


74 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


careful  to  spill  a little  of  the  liquid.  As  the  fumes 
spread  through  the  room  the  catcher  exclaimed  as 
they  reached  his  olfactories,  “ 0 the  d — 1.’ 

“Yes,  der  toiful,  shentelmens,  der  toiful;  you  comes 
to  mine  house  as  if  de  Aughfeultwanger  wo’dt  keep 
ein  runavay  nigger ; you  go  dru,  you  go  unter  mine 
parn ; you  goes  indo  mine  pet  rooms;  you  climps 
down  into  mine  shamber,  unt  you  goes  up  indo 
mine  seller,  and  now  der  toiful!  You  peest  tswi  tarn 
deeps,  unt  if  you  no  go  so  gwick  as  von  leetel  minit, 
I sets  mine  tok  on  you  unt  er  makes  you  into  sau- 
sage meat  fore  von  hour.  Pounce!  here  Pounce, 
here ! ” and  a great  house  dog  came  rushing  into  the 
back  door  as  the  two  runaway-seekers  beat  a hasty 
retreat,  each  catching  a glimpse,  as  he  passed  out,  of 
the  huge  animal  called  to  act  as  judgment  execu- 
tioner upon  them.  Though  foiled,  they  were  not 
discouraged,  but  transferred  their  place  of  watching 
to  other  parts. 

VIII. 

Pleaching  home,  Mr.  Young  immediately  wrote 
Mr.  Bishop,  as  follows : — 

“ — o 56 — 10 — 28 — 81. 

Dear , 

Piratical  craft  square  rigged,  but  our  wind  was  good  and 

we  holed  the  duck.  ( ) ‘ Mine  Got,  mine  Got,  mine 

Got for  XXX ’ Greeley’s  advice.  Day  and  night ; 

day  and  night ; day  and  night.  With  an  eye  to  foxes,  let  ’er 
slide.  Yours, 


o 


o 


JACK  WATSON. 


75 


On  its  receipt,  Mr.  Bishop  took  the  necessary  precau- 
tions to  execute  the  contents  of  the  letter,  and  on  the 
third  night  proceeded  to  carry  them  out,  being  not 
unaware  of  the  fact  that  he  was  closely  watched. 

IX. 

Two  men  were  standing  in  their  respective  door- 
ways in  the  village  of  Andover,  Ohio,  on  a Novem- 
ber afternoon.  The  one  wras  a broad-shouldered, 
full-chested  man,  with  a flowing  beard,  a merry 
twinkle  in  the  eye,  a kind  of  devil-me-care  negligence 
in  his  appearance,  with  a physique  that  betokened 
great  power  and  endurance.  This  man  had  long 
been  known  technically  as  “ Thribble  X ” of  station 
“ 1001,”  at  Gustavus,  Ohio,  from  which  place  he  had 
migrated  to  Andover  to  proclaim  the  principles  of 
the  Universalist  faith,  and  was  known  among  his 
people  as  Elder  Shipman,  or  more  familiarly,  “Uncle 
Charley.” 

The  other  gentleman  wras  of  slimmer  build,  sandy 
complexion,  thoughtful  mien,  and  the  very  manner 
in  which  he  handled  his  pipe  would  guarantee  that 
he  was  of  “Hinglish  stock.” 

As  they  thus  stood,  a buggy  came  driving  from 
the  east  at  break-neck  speed,  and  dashing  up  to  the 
parsonage  the  driver  exclaimed,  “ Elder,  can  you  do 
anything  for  this  duck,  for  they’re  after  us  hotter’n 
h— 11.” 

“ Don’t  you  know  there  is  no  such  place  as  that, 
Mose  ? ” was  the  calm  reply. 


76 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“ Well,  well,  I’ve  no  time  to  discuss  theological 
matters  now ; all  I know  is  if  there  is  no  such  place, 
there  ought  to  be  a new  creation  at  once  for  the  sake 
of  two  fellows  that  must  already  be  this  side  of  the 
Shenango.” 

“So  near  as  that?  Set  him  out.” 

Immediately  the  colored  man  was  bidden  to 
° alight,  and  whilst  he  and  the  elder  struck  out  for  the 
woods  a short  distance  to  the  southwest,  the  buggy 
was  turned  and  driven  rapidly  toward  Richmond. 

Scarcely  was  it  out  of  sight,  when  two  horsemen 
came  galloping  into  town,  and  riding  up  to  our  Eng- 
lish friend,  who  had  been  an  interested  spectator  of 
the  little  scene  just  described  and  was  wont  to  ex- 
press his  satisfaction  of  English  laws  by  quoting, 

“ Slaves  cannot  breathe  in  Highland  ; if  there  lungs 
Received  ’er  hair,  that  moment  they  are  free  ; ” 
and  inquired,  “ Stranger,  did  you  see  a buggy  drive 
into  town  from  the  east  a short  time  ago  with  two 
men  in  it  ? ” 

“ Hi  ’ave,  gentlemen.” 

“Was  one  of  them  black  ? ” 

“ ’E  was,  gentlemen.” 

“ Should  you  think  the  other  was  the  man  they 
call  Mose  Bishop  ? ” 

“ Hi  should,  gentlemen.” 

“ Which  way  did  he  drive  ? ” 

“ To  the  north,  gentlemen.” 

“ Thank  you,  sir,  and  good  day.” 

“Good  day,  gentlemen.” 


JACK  WATSON.  ' 


77 


Clapping  spurs  to  their  horses,  the  riders  were 
away  with  a bound,  under  the  inspiration  of  the 
first  genuine  cry  of  “ On  to  Richmond.” 

Reaching  the  proper  point,  Bishop  turned  east- 
ward and  dashed  down  through  Padan-aram,  much 
to  the  surprise  of  the  denizens  of  that  sequestered 
community,  whilst  his  pursuers  swept  on  to  the 
Center,  and  on  inquiry  at  the  village  store,  were 
blandly  informed  by  the  proprietor,  Mr.  Heath,  that 
there  had  been  no  buggy  at  all  in  the  place  that  day. 
Had  Mose  and  the  elder  heard  the  refined  language 
that  then  made  the  very  atmosphere  about  Rich- 
mond blue,  they  would  both  have  been  converts  to 
the  orthodox  doctrine  of  sulphuric  cleansing. 

X. 

Watching  the  departure  of  the  others,  Shipman 
and  his  charge  crossed  the  road  to  the  eastward,  and 
were  soon  threading  the  woodlands  bordering  the 
Shenango,  and  about  midnight  sought  quarters  at  a 
friend’s  of  the  elder,  not  far  from  Lines ville.  Arm- 
ing themselves  with  heavy  walking  sticks,  just  be- 
fore evening  of  the  next  day  they  set  out  for  Albion. 
They  had  not  proceeded  far  before  they  saw  they 
were  to  encounter  four  sinister-looking  fellows. 
“Now,  Jack,”  said  the  elder,  “ You  have  endured  too 
much  to  be  taken  back.  I do  not  wish  to  pay  a 
thousand  dollars  fine  nor  go  to  prison  for  your  sake. 
We  may  have  to  use  these  canes.  Do  you  under- 
stand ? ” 


78 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“ Yes,  Massa,  you  can  trus’  dis  Jack.” 

A call  to  halt  was  answered  by  so  vigorous  a 
charge  and  such  effective  use  of  the  walking  sticks 
that  two  of  the  challengers  soon  lay  upon  the  ground 
and  the  others  beat  a hasty  retreat.  Taking  advan- 
tage of  circumstances  the  little  train  switched,  and 
under  the  pressure  of  a full  head  of  steam  reached 
the  “Old  Tannery”  station  near  Albion  before  day- 
light. 

The  conductor  was  now  on  strange  ground,  but 
knowing  there  was  an  agent  in  the  vicinity  named 
Low,  he  hunted  him  up  and  received  such  informa- 
tion as  enabled  them  to  make  a little  clump  of  hem- 
locks on  the  bank  of  a ravine  not  far  from  the 
residence  of  Elijah  Drury,  of  Girard,  the  following 
night. 

Farmer  Drury  was  a stalwart,  standing  little  less 
than  six  feet  in  height,  always  ready  for  any  good 
word  and  work,  and  had  been  for  many  years  en- 
gaged in  the  transportation  business.  Always  wary, 
however,  he  was  not  to  be  deceived  when,  in  the 
morning,  our  bewhiskered  conductor  presented  him- 
self and  asked  for  something  to  eat. 

“ 0 yes,”  said  Mr.  Drury,  “ I can  always  furnish  a 
man,  though  a stranger,  something  with  which  to 
satisfy  hunger.” 

“But  I want  something  also  for  a friend.” 

“ A friend  ! What  do  you  mean?  ’’ 

u I mean  that  I have  a friend  down  yonder  in  the 
thicket,  who  is  both  weary  and  hungry.” 


JACK  WATSON. 


79 


“ Mister,  do  you  know  what  I think?” 

“ I am  not  a prophet,  sir.” 

“ Well,  it  is  my  opinion  that  you  are  a horse 
thief.” 

“ Will  you  come  down  and  see  the  last  nag  I 
trotted  off?  ” 

Together  the  two  men  went  down  to  the  little 
thicket,  and  there  the  Elder  not  only  exhibited  the 
passenger,  but  to  remove  all  suspicions,  showed  him 
the  scars  that  indicated  the  floggings  to  which  the 
slave  had  been  subjected,  a sight  which  Mr.  Drury 
often  afterwards  said  came  very  near  making  him 
swear  outright.  Thus  commenced  a friendship  be- 
tween the  two  men  long  continued  and  fraught  with 
many  acts  attesting  the  generous  nature  of  both. 

XI. 

When  evening  came,  time  being  precious,  our  con- 
ductor drew  the  reins  over  Mr.  Drury’s  best  road- 
sters, and  about  midnight  deposited  his  passenger  at 
the  doorway  of  an  old-fashioned  house,  with  gable 
to  the  street,  wing  projecting  northward,  and  a large 
elm  tree  nearly  in  front,  standing  on  Federal  Hill, 
in  what  is  now  South  Erie,  and  for  the  first  time 
XXX  greeted  officially  a most  redoubtable  Keystone 
agent,  known  as  the  “ Doctor,”  in  those  days  one  of 
Erie's  well-known  characters.  He  had  gained  some 
knowledge  of  herbs  and  roots,  which  he  learned  to 
apply  medicinally,  thus  acquiring  his  appellation, 
which  he  wore  with  great  satisfaction,  soon  coming 


8o 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


to  look  upon  all  mere  “ book  doctors  ” in  great  con- 
tempt. He  was  accustomed  to  drive  about  town 
with  an  old  brown  horse  attached  to  a kind  of  carry- 
all  vehicle  ; always  took  his  whisky  straight  and  in 
full  allopathic  doses,  though  he  affected  to  despise- 
the  practice  generally,  and  prided  himself  on  being 
the  most  reliable  agent  in  Erie  county. 

Into  the  Doctor’s  private  sanctum  Jack  was  at  once 
admitted,  and  properly  cared  for  for  a number  of 
days,  until  measurably  recuperated  from  his  weeks 
of  incessant  vigil  and  solicitude,  when  he  was  taken 
in  charge  by  Thomas  .Elliott,  Esq.,  of  Harborcreek, 
and  conveyed  to  Wesley ville,  four  miles  east  of  the 
city.  Here,  inasmuch  as  fresh  news  was  obtained  of 
his  pursuers,  it  was  thought  best  to  secrete  him  anew, 
and  he  was  therefore  deposited  in  Station  “ Sanctum 
Sanctorum  ” — the  garret  of  the  Methodist  Church. 

Whoever  passes  through  the  village  on  the  “ Buf- 
falo Road,”  fails  not  to  notice  this  unpretentious 
little  brick  structure  standing  by  the  wayside.  Like 
most  churches  built  so  long  ago,  it  has  undergone 
various  remodelings.  The  “ battlements  ” have  been 
taken  off ; doors  and  windows  have  shifted  places, 
but  within  it  is  little  changed  ; the  seating  below  and 
the  three-sided  gallery  remaining  much  as  of  old. 

From  the  time  of  its  first  dedication  onward,  it  has 
been  the  scene  of  many  a revival,  and  for  years  it 
was  the  “ horn  of  the  altar  ” upon  which  the  panting 
fugitive  laid  his  hand,  and  was  safe,  for  its  use  as  a 
“ station  ” was  known  only  to  a “ selected  few.” 


OLD  CHURCH,  WESLEYVILLE,  PA. 


JACK  WATSON. 


8l 


At  the  time  we  speak  of,  a protracted  meeting  had 
already  been  begun,  for  the  bleakness  of  winter  had 
early  set  in.  The  services  were  conducted  by  Rev. 
Jas.  Gilfillin,  a sterling  old  Scotchman,  who  had  re- 
ceived a large  part  of  his  training  in  the  collieries  of 
his  native  land,  and  before  the  mast  as  a sailor  on 
the  high  seas,  assisted  by  Rev.  William  Gheer,  a. 
young  man  of  timidity  and  all  gentility  of  manner. 
The  interest  was  most  marked,  and  crowds  came 
nightly  to  listen,  to  weep,  to  become  penitents,  not 
only  from  up  and  down  the  “road,”  but  from  Gospel 
Hill,  and  far  beyond,  bringing  even  grand  old  father 
and  mother  Weed,  who  had  assisted  at  the 
formation  of  the  society  over  thirty  years  before, 
from  away  up  in  the  “ beechwoods,”  and  with  them 
Nehemiah  Beers,  an  exhorter,  particularly  felicitious 
in  the  construction  of  unheard-of  words  and  expres- 
sions. 

Under  such  circumstances  Jack  was  deposited, 
early  one  morning,  in  his  rude  apartment,  measur- 
ably warmed  by  the  pipe  which  came  up  from  the 
great  box-stove  below,  and  cautioned  that  he  must 
keep  particularly  quiet  during  the  devotional  exer- 
cises below.  Here  he  remained  for  several  days, 
listening  to  the  praises  of  new-born  souls  and  the 
hosannas  of  the  older  brethren  during  meeting  hours, 
and  then  descending  and  making  himself  comfort- 
able in  the  well-warmed  room  when  all  was  quiet 
and  safe.  Indeed,  so  well  did  he  play  his  part  as 
tire-tender,  that  the  Chambers  boys,  who  chopped 


82 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


the  wood,  which  was  hauled  to  the  church  “ sled- 
length  ” by  the  brethren,  emphatically  declared,  as 
they  wondered  at  the  marvellous  disappearance  of 
fuel,  “ It  takes  a power  of  wood  to  run  a red-hot  re- 
vival, and  we  shall  be  glad  when  the  meeting 
closes,”  and  it  required  no  little  effort  on  the  part  of 
their  father,  the  main  source  of  supply,  to  induce 
them  to  persevere  in  their  “labor  of  love.” 

Thus  matters  passed  until  Sunday  evening  came, 
when  the  interest  of  the  meeting  seemed  to  culmi- 
nate in  a Pentecostal  shower.  The  Rev.  James  Sulli- 
van, then  a young  man,  preached  a sermon  of  great 
eloquence  and  power,  encouraged  by  many  a hearty 
Amen  from  Father  Weed  and  the  older  brethren, 
and  the  responsive  hallelujahs  of  hale  old  Sister 
Weed  and  the  other  “ Mothers  in  Israel.”  The  ser- 
mon ended,  men  clapped  their  hands  in  ecstatic 
rapture,  and  struck  up  that  grand  old  revival  hymn, 
“ Come  ye  sinners,  poor  and  needy,” 
whilst  the  old  pastor  rose  in  his  place,  and  earnestly 
exhorted  sinners  to  come  to  the  “ mourner’s  bench  ” 
and  find  pardon  and  peace,  until  the  feeling  of  ex- 
citement burst  forth  in  one  simultaneous,  “ Amen, 
hallelujah  to  God!” 

The  Spirit  had  reached  the  garret,  and  in  the  fer- 
vor of  excitement  Jack  forgot  himself,  and,  “Amen, 
hallelujah  to  God ! ” came  back  in  responsive  echo, 
sufficiently  loud  enough  to  attract  the  attention  of 
those  in  the  gallery,  who  looked  at  each  other  in 
startled  amazement. 


JACK  WATSON. 


83 


Down  on  his  knees  went  Brother  Beers,  and  in  the 
midst  of  an  impassioned  prayer,  exclaimed : “ 0 ! 

Lord-ah,  come  down  to  night-ah,  and  rim-wrack  and 
center-shake  the  work  of  the  devil-ah.” 

Influenced  more  by  the  Spirit  than  the  phrase- 
ology of  the  prayer,  there  went  up  from  the  worship- 
ping throng  a hearty  “ Amen,  and  Amen  ! ” 

“ Amen,  and  Amen ! ” came  down  from  above, 
only  to  increase  the  astonishment  of  the  crowded 
gallery,  most  there  believing  that  an  angel  hovered 
over  them.  As  if  in  perfect  accord  with  the  sur- 
roundings, Parson  Gheer  struck  up, 

“ Behold  the  Savior  of  mankind," 
without  waiting  for 

“ Nailed  to  the  rugged  cross,” 

the  sentorian  voice  of  the  old  pastor  rang  out,  “ Yes, 
He  comes  ! He  comes ! ” 

“Yes,  He  comes!  He  comes!”  shouted  the  em- 
bodied seraph  in  the  garret,  in  tones  sufficiently 
loud  to  catch  the  ear  of  the  sexton,  who  immediately 
mounted  aloft,  as  he  often  did  to  adjust  the  stove- 
pipe, and  though  the  meeting  continued  for  an  hour 
longer,  there  were  no  farther  angelic  demonstrations, 
yet  some  in  the  gallery  long  persisted  that  they  had 
that  night  been  permitted  to  listen  to  seraphic 
strains. 

Before  daylight  Jack  wTas  shipped  by  way  of  Col. 
Moorhead’s  and  North  East,  to  Conductor  Nutting, 
at  State  Line,  and  by  him  to  Syracuse,  where  he 


84 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


safely  arrived  and  remained  until  the  breaking  out 
of  the  war,  when  he  went  south  and  rendered  valu- 
able service  to  the  Union  cause,  in  a way  that  may 
be  told  in  due  time. 


CHAPTER  III. 


UNCLE  JAKE. 


I. 


EARS  ago,  before  the  permanent  organization  of 


I the  Underground  Railroad,  when  the  escape 
of  fugitives  was  largely  a haphazard  matter,  there 
lived  on  the  sacred  soil  of  Virginia,  back  a few  miles 
from  "Wheeling,  a pleasant,  companionable  man, 
owning  a number  of  slaves,  among  them  one  known 
as  “Uncle  Jake,”  the  happy  husband  of  an  exem- 
plary wife,  who  had  borne  him  several  children, 
some  of  whom  they  had  seen  grow  to  manhood  and 
womanhood,  while  others  still  remained  with  them 
in  the  cabin. 

Uncle  Jake  was  an  expert  mason,  and  brought  his 
master  large  wages.  The  latter,  in  the  generosity  of 
his  heart,  had  stipulated  that  a certain  per  cent,  of 
these  should  be  credited  up  to  Jake  for  the  purchase 
of  the  freedom  of  himself  and  wife.  When  he  turned 
his  fifty-ninth  birthday  the  sum  agreed  upon  was 
nearly  reached,  and  the  faithful  man  went  out  to  a 
job  in  Wheeling,  with  the  full  assurance  that  on  his 
sixtieth  anniversary  he  and  his  hale  old  wife  should 
go  forth  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  blessings  of  free 


86 


UNCLE  JAKE. 


people.  Thus  incited,  his  trowel  was  nimbly  han- 
dled as  the  days  flew  by. 

A little  improvident  and  immethodical  in  his  busi- 
ness, the  master  had  contracted  large  obligations, 
which  he  was  unable  to  meet;  his  paper  matured; 
his  creditors  swooped  down  upon  him  simultane- 
ously, and  in  a single  day  he  was  stripped  of  every- 
thing. His  slaves,  with  the  exception  of  Uncle  Jake, 
who  was  purchased  at  a round  figure  by  a neighbor 
who  had  long  covited  him,  were  sold  to  a southern 
trader,  and  on  Saturday  morning,  chained  into  sepa- 
rate coffles,  the  unhappy  wife  and  mother,  with  her 
children,  forming  one  by  themselves,  whilst  the 
father,  indulging  in  pleasant  day-dreams  of  the  fu- 
ture, was  busily  plying  his  craft  in  one  part  of  the 
town,  were  driven  through  another,  down  to  the 
river,  and  put  on  board  a steamer  for  New  Orleans. 

Evening  came,  and  the  week’s  work  ended,  Uncle 
Jake  started  with  a light  heart  homeward.  When 
he  reached  the  neighborhood  sometime  after  night- 
fall, he  was  apprised  by  a friend  on  the  look-out  for 
him,  of  the  fate  of  the  master — of  himself  and  loved 
ones.  Had  a thunderbolt  fallen  at  his  feet,  he  could 
not  have  been  more  shocked.  Learning,  also,  that 
his  new  master,  a tyrannical  man,  was  waiting  his 
coming,  he  turned  aside  to  give  vent  to  his  grief. 
Had  he  been  sold  with  the  family  he  could  have  en- 
dured it,  for  then  there  might  have  been  a chance  of 
occasional  meeting;  indeed,  he  and  his  wife  might 
have  been  sold  to  the  same  plantation;  but  now  they 


JACK  WATSON. 


87 


were  gone — separated  forever.  Under  the  blue  dome 
of  heaven,  with  the  myriad  stars  looking  down  upon 
him,  he  wept — wept  as  only  a man  can  weep  under 
such  circumstances — until  the  reaction  came,  when  a 
lion-like  manhood  asserted  itself  in  the  laconic  ex- 
pression, “ Not  one  more  stroke  in  slavery.” 

Arising  with  the  clear-cut  resolution  to  obtain  his 
freedom  or  perish  in  the  attempt,  he  proceeded 
stealthily  to  his  cabin,  armed  himself  with  a large 
butcher  knife  and  a heavy  walking  stick,  and  taking 
one  last  look  at  objects,  though  humble,  still  dear  to 
him,  he  set  out  with  elastic  step  towards  the  river. 
About  one-half  the  distance  had  been  gone  over, 
when  he  perceived  himself  pursued.  He  turned 
aside,  hoping  to  secrete  himself,  but  in  vain ; he  had 
been  sighted,  and  was  summoned  to  surrender. 

To  the  challenge,  he  responded  : “ I am  yours  if 

you  can  take  me.” 

The  two  men,  his  new  master  and  an  attendant, 
dismounted  and  hitched  their  horses,  thinking  the 
conquest  of  the  “cowardly  nigger”  would  be  an 
easy  matter.  But  not  so.  The  man  who  for  nearly 
three-score  years  had  manifested  only  the  meakness 
of  a child,  was  now  endowed  with  the  spirit  and 
prowess  of  a giant.  A well-aimed  blow  of  the 
bludgeon  laid  his  master  a quivering  corpse  at  his 
feet,  and  several  well-directed  strokes  of  the  butcher 
knife  sent  the  other  covered  with  ghastly,  bleeding 
wounds,  fainting  to  the  roadside. 

Mounting  the  fleetest  horse,  Jake  made  his  way 


88 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


rapidly  to  the  river,  and  plunging  in  soon  found 
himself  landed  safely  on  the  Ohio  shore.  Taking  to 
a highway  soon  found,  he  followed  the  lead  of  the 
north  star,  and  just  at  daybreak  turned  into  a wood- 
land ravine,  and  spent  the  quiet  autumnal  Sabbath 
watching  the  grazing  of  the  faithful  horse  upon  such 
herbage  as  he  could  find,  and  in  meditating  upon 
the  wonderful  revelations  and  events  of  the  past 
twenty-four  hours. 

Night  clear  and  beautiful,  came  again,  and  Jake 
pursued  his  onward  ivay,  and  in  the  early  morning 
turned  his  jaded  beast  loose  in  a retired  pasture  lot 
not  far  from  Salem  ; threw  the  saddle  and  bridle 
into  a ravine,  on  the  principle  that  ‘‘dead  men  tell 
no  tales,”  and  prospecting  about  for  some  time,  saw 
emerge  from  a farm  house  a broad-brimmed  hat, 
which  he  had  learned  was  a sure  sign  of  food  and 
protection.  Approaching  the  Quaker  farmer,  Uncle 
Jake  declared  himself  a fugitive,  and  applied  for 
food  and  shelter,  which  were  freely  granted. 

Tuesday  the  stage  coach  brought  into  Salem  a 
handbill  giving  a full  description  of  Uncle  Jake,  tell- 
ing of  the  killing  of  the  master,  the  probable  mortal 
wounding  of  the  other,  and  offering  a large  reward 
for  his  apprehension. 

“ Thee  oughtest  to  have  struck  more  carefully, 
friend,”  said  the  Quaker,  when  he  had  learned  thus 
fully  the  measure  of  his  protege’s  adventure,  “ but 
then  as  it  was  in  the  dark,  we  may  pardon  thee  thy 
error,  but  Salem  is  not  a safe  place  for  such  as  thee. 


UNCLE  JAKE. 


89 


I shall  take  thee  to  my  friend,  Dr.  Benjamin  Stanton, 
who  will  instruct  thee  as  to  what  thee  is  to  do.” 

Accordingly,  when  nightfall  made  it  safe,  the 
Quaker  took  Jake  to  the  house  of  his  friend,  who 
was  none  other  than  a cousin  of  Lincoln's  great  War 
Secretary,  where  having  exchanged  his  laborer’s 
garb  for  a suit  of  army  blue,  richly  trimmed  with 
brass  buttons,  a style  of  dress  much  admired  by 
colored  people  in  those  old  days  of  militia  training, 
and  a high-crowned  hat,  he  was  immediately  posted 
off  to  the  care  of  one  Barnes,  residing  on  the  confines 
of  Boardman,  bearing  to  him  the  simple  admonition, 
“ It  is  hot.” 

Not  appreciating  the  full  merits  of  the  case,  Barnes 
took  him  in  the  early  morning  and  started  for  War- 
ren by  way  of  Youngstown.  Here  he  was  espied  by 
two  questionable  characters,  who  having  seen  the 
hand-bill  advertising  Jake,  and  knowing  the  ante- 
cedents of  Barnes,  justly  surmised  that  the  black 
gentleman  in  blue  might  be  none  other  than  the  in- 
dividual for  whom  the  reward  was  offered,  and  at 
once  planned  a pursuit,  but  not  until  the  eagle  eye 
of  the  driver  had  detected  their  motions.  Leaving 
the  main  road,  he  struck  across  the  Liberty  hills. 
When  near  Loy’s  Corners  he  perceived  they  were 
pursued,  and  bade  Jake  alight  and  make  for  some 
place  of  safety,  while  he  would  try  and  lead  the  pur- 
suers off  the  trail. 

In  a land  of  strangers  and  without  protective 
weapons  save  his  knife,  Jake  could  do  nothing  more 


go 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


than  to  run  up  to  a little  wagon  shop  by  the  way- 
side,  in  the  doorway  of  which  stood  an  honest 
Pennsylvania  Dutchman  named  Samuel  Goist,  and 
exclaimed.  “ Lor’  Massa,  save  me  from  the  slave 
catcher.” 

Now,  Mr.  Goist  was  a Democrat  of  the  straightest 
sect,  and  had  long  sworn  by  “Sheneral  Shackson  ; ” 
he  had  never  before  seen  a panting  fugitive  and 
knew  nothing  of  secretive  methods,  but  when  he  saw 
the  venerable,  though  unique  form  before  him,  his 
generous  heart  was  touched,  and  he  replied  : “Hite 
gwick  in  ter  hay  yonder  till  I cums,”  pointing  at  the 
same  time  to  a last  year’s  haystack,  into  which  the 
cattle  had  eaten  deep  recesses. 

It  was  but  the  work  of  a moment,  and  sable  form, 
blue  suit  and  plug  hat  were  viewless  in  what  the 
winter  before  had  often  sheltered  the  semi-farmer’s 
choicest  steer  from  pitiless  storm. 

Scarcely  was  this  feat  executed  when  the  Youngs- 
town parties  came  up  and  knowing  the  political  com- 
plexion of  the  honest  wagon-maker  inquired,  “ Hal- 
loo, old  dad,  have  you  seen  a buggy  go  by  here  with 
a white  man,  and  a nigger  dressed  in  blue,  in  it?” 

“ Ya,  shentlemen,  py  shimmeny;  dot  puggy  vent 
py  das  corner  ond  yonder  not  more  as  den  minit  aco, 
unt  er  vas  trifong  das  horse,  py  shingo.  I dinks  you 
not  oferdakes  him  much  pefore  Vorren.” 

With  an  expression  of  rough  thanks,  the  men 
struck  off  under  a full  gallop  which  carried  them 
into  Warren  right  speedily,  but  in  the  meantime 


UNCLE  JAKE. 


91 


Barnes  had  watched  his  opportunity,  turned  off 
through  Kites,  and  pursued  his  homeward  journey 
by  way  of  Austintown. 

Turning  from  his  shop  when  his  interrogators  were 
out  of  sight,  Mr.  Goist  called  his  good  frou  and  said, 
“ Veil,  Mutter,  I kes  I haf  lite  shust  a lidel.” 

“ Vot,  you,  fater,  haf  lite?  0 mine  ! ” 

“ Veil,  Mutter,  you  zee  von  plack  man  comes  along 
unt  asks  me  him  for  to  hite,  unt  I say  in  dem  stock  ; 
unt  den  cums  sum  mans  fon  Youngstown  unt  says 
he  ‘ Olt  dat,  you  sees  von  puggy  mit  nigger  unt  vite 
man  goes  dis  vay?’  Unt  I say,  ‘ Ya,  dot  puggy  vas 
kon  py  like  a shtreak.’  ” 

“ O mine,  fater,  das  vas  no  liegen  ; you  shust  say 
dot  puggy  vas  kon.” 

“ Veil,  if  dot  mans  was  Sheneral  Shackson,  I 
should  him  tell  shust  der  zame.” 

That  evening  Uncle  Jake  received  an  ample  sup- 
per from  the  larder  of  good  Mother  Goist,  and  was 
then  placed  in  a wagon  under  a cover  of  straw  and 
conveyed  close  to  the  house  of  a Mr.  Stewart  near 
the  corner  of  Vienna,  whom  rumor  had  pointed  out 
to  the  honest  Dutchman  as  one  of  “ dem  aperlishi- 
oners.”  Here  he  was  bidden  “ goot  py,”  and  soon 
found  his  way  to  the  cabin  indicated,  whence  in  due 
time  he  was  forwarded  to  General  Andrew  Bushnell, 
a prominent  anti-slavery  man  south  of  the  centre  of 
Hartford. 

II. 

Even  at  that  early  day,  Hartford  and  Vernon  had 


92 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


established  for  themselves  a wide-spread  reputation 
for  expertness  in  the  forwarding  business.  General 
Bushnell,  on  account  of  his  age  and  experience  was 
looked  upon  as  the  acknowledged  front  of  affairs, 
hut  his  work  was  ably  seconded  by  many  others, 
particularly  by  two  young  men,  Ralph  Plumb,  of 
Burgh  Hill,  and  Levi  Sutliff,  who  still  resided  with 
his  parents  in  the  north  part  of  Vernon.  These 
young  men  were  ever  on  the  alert  for  daring  enter- 
prise, but  just  now  discretion  was  considered  the 
better  part  of  valor,  for  slow  as  news  moved,  it  was 
not  long  before  the  chase  from  Youngstown  to  War- 
ren became  known  in  Hartford,  and  anti-fugitive  eyes 
became  unusually  vigilent  about  town,  and  it  was 
whispered  that  the  blue  suit  might  come  that  way 
and  some  one  might  pick  up  a handsome  reward. 

For  some  days  Uncle  Jake  was  carefully  secreted 
in  a hay  barn,  together  with  a young  man  who  had 
previously  reached  the  General’s.  Plumb  and  Sut- 
liff were  so  carefully  watched,  it  was  thought  best  to 
commit  the  carrying  of  the  twain  to  other  hands — 
but  whose  should  they  be? 

Young  Plumb  had  a sister  Mary,  about  twenty 
years  of  age,  the  affianced  of  Sutliff,  and  the  General 
had  a daughter  bearing  the  same  name  a year  or  two 
younger,  both  spirited,  resolute  girls,  and  ready  for 
any  good  work.  When  only  fourteen,  Miss  Bush- 
nell, in  a case  of  special  emergency,  had  hitched  up 
the  family  carriage,  (a  one-horse  wagon,)  and  con- 
veyed a fleeing  family  from  her  father’s  to  the  Sutliff 


UNCLE  JAKE. 


93 


home,  a distance  of  eight  miles,  encountering  a 
fearful  thunderstorm  on  the  way,  and  returning  be 
fore  the  first  peep  of  morning  light. 

One  day  when  conversing  on  the  best  way  of  dis- 
posing of  the  case  in  hand,  Ralph  said : “ Leve, 

suppose  we  commit  this  mission  to  the  Marys;  I 
believe  they  will  put  the  stock  safely  through  to  the 
lake.” 

“ Capital,”  replied  his  companion  ; “ have  you  ma- 
tured a scheme  ? ” 

“ Partially.” 

“ What  is  it  ? ” 

“ Well  your  father  is  to  have  a load  of  hay  of  the 
General.  Come  along  with  the  team  and  111  help 
you  get  it.  Well  pack  Uncle  Jake  and  the  boy  into 
the  load,  take  Mary  on  with  us  and  bring  her  down 
to  our  house,  there  take  on  sister,  and  when  the  hay 
is  in  the  Sutliff  barn  the  rest  can  be  easily  arranged.” 

“ But  will  the  girls  consent?  ” 

“ The  Bushnell  has  been  tried,  and  you  are  the 
last  man  that  ought  to  raise  a question  about  the 
Plumb.” 

That  afternoon  the  team  of  the  senior  Sutliff  was 
driven  through  the  center  of  Hartford  and  to  the 
hay-barn  of  Andrew  Bushnell,  where  it  was.  duly 
loaded,  the  two  choicest  spires  being  extended  longi- 
tudinally a short  distance  from  the  top.  Passing 
the  house,  Mary  was  taken  on  and  a merry  trio  pro- 
ceeded northward  only  to  be  expanded  to  a jubilant 
quartette  on  arriving  at  the  Hill.  No  suspicion  was 


94 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


aroused,  for  those  were  days  when  a woman’s  worth 
and  modesty  were  not  lessened  by  her  being  seen  in 
sun-bonnet  and  shawl  upon  a load  of  hay. 

III. 

One,  two,  three, , , , , , , 

, , twelve,  went  the  clock  in  the  old,  low 

SutlifF  mansion ; a light  two-horse  wagon,  the  bed 
filled  with  hay  as  if  covering  a “ grist,”  was  backed 
out  of  the  barn ; two  strong  horses  wTere  attached ; 
warm  kisses  wTere  administered  to  ruby  lips  ; and  a 
couple  of  well-wrapped  female  forms  ascended  to  the 
seat ; a delicately  gloved  hand  laid  hold  of  the  lines, 
and  the  team  sped  briskly  towards  the  “ Kinsman 
woods.” 

IV. 

Deacon  Andrews,  in  the  old  farm  house  still  stand- 
ing on  the  brink  of  the  little  ravine  south  of  the 
hamlet  of  Lindenville,  had  put  up  his  morning 
prayer  for  the  drowning  host  of  Pharaoh,  the  Greeks, 
the  Romans  and  the  Jews,  said  “ Amen  ” and  arisen 
from  his  knees,  when  his  wife,  looking  out  of  the 
window,  exclaimed:  “See,  husband,  there’s  the 
Sutliff  team ; but  who  is  driving  ? As  I live,  if  it 
isn’t  a couple  of  girls,  and  all  the  wTay  up  from  Ver- 
non so  early  as  this!  What  can  they  want?” 

“Going  to  the  ‘Harbor’  with  grain , I presume; 
likely  the  men  folks  are  busy.” 

“ But  then  I didn’t  know  the  Sutliff’s  have  any 
girls.” 


UNCLE  JAKE. 


95 


“ Well,  wife,  likely  they’ve  hired  the  team  to  some 
of  the  neighbors.  Tou  start  the  children  out  after 
chestnuts,  quick.’’ 

There  was  a lively  scampering  of  young  Andrews 
to  the  woods ; a hasty  breakfasting  of  girls  and 
horses ; a close  examination  of  the  sacks  under  the 
hay  to  see  if  all  was  right;  a pleasant  “ good  morn- 
ing,” and  the  team  went  northward  and  the  deacon 
to  his  work,  mentally  exclaiming : “ Great  and 

marvelous  are  the  works  of  the  Almighty — and  Plumb 
and  Sut — ” hut  he  checked  the  irreverent  conclusion. 
V. 

It  was  high  noon  at  Jefferson,  and  Ben  Wade 
brought  his  fist  down  upon  the  cover  of  the  volume 
of  Blackstone  he  had  closed,  as  he  arose  to  go  to 
dinner,  and  ejaculated,  “ Who  the  d — 1 is  that,  Gid.” 

The  pleasant,  bland  countenanced  gentleman  to 
whom  these  words  were  addresssd  looked  up,  and 
there  in  front  of  the  little  office  bearing  the  unpreten- 
tious sign, 

“GIDDINGS  & WADE, 

ATTORNEYS  AT  LAW.” 

were  two  plump,  rosy-cheeked  giris,  each  engaged  in 
hitching  a horse. 

“ Zounds,  Ben,  you  ought  to  know  your  Trumbull 
count)1-  friends.  It  hasn’t  been  so  long  since  you 
taught  school  at  the  Center  of  Hartfort  that  you 
should  have  forgotten  the  Bushnells  and  the  Plumbs.” 

“The  h — 11!  I wonder  if  those  two  lasses  can  be 
the  little  Mollies  I used  to  enjoy  so  much.” 


96 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“ They  are  the  Miss  Bushnell  and  Miss  Plumb  I 
met  at  Sutliff’s  a few  days  ago,  though  I do  not 
know  their  names.” 

The  two  attorneys,  as  yet  unknown  to  fame,  at- 
tended, without  fees,  to  the  consultation  of  the  young 
ladies,  treated  them  and  theirs  to  the  best  fare  of  him 
who  was  afterwards  well  known  in  Railroad  circles 
as  “Anno  Mundi,”  and  then  sent  them  forward  with 
a kind  letter  of  introduction  to  “ Doctor  ” Henry 
Harris,  the  most  likely  man  to  greet  them. 

VI. 

“ Can  you  direct  us  to  Dr.  Harris  ? ” said  a sweet 
voiced  girl  to  a trim,  quick-stepping,  rather  fashion- 
ably dressed  young  gentleman  on  the  street  in  the 
little  village  of  Ashtabula,  as  she  reined  up  a two- 
horse  team. 

“ Hem,  ’em  ’em,  Dr.  Harris?  ’em,  why,  that  is 
what  they  call  me.” 

“Are  you  the  only  Dr.  Harris  in  town ? ” 

“’Em,  yes,  Miss.  What  can  I do  for  you?  ” 

The  letters  of  the  Jefferson  attorneys  was  placed 
in  his  hands. 

“ ’Em,  hem,”  he  exclaimed,  after  reading  it. 
“ Freight ! we  can  not  ship  now  ; shall  have  to  stow 
it  in  our  up-town  ware-house ; ” saying  which  he  led 
the  way  out  to  a country  home,  now  occupied  as  a 
city  residence,  where  the  freight  was  deposited  in  a 
hay  mow,  whilst  the  kind-hearted  old  Scotchman, 
Deacon  McDonald  and  his  wife  most  graciously 
cared  for  the  intrepid  drivers  for  the  night. 


UNCLE  JAKE. 


97 


The  young  man  Ned  was  soon  sent  away,  but 
Uncle  Jake  lingered  in  the  vicinity  for  considerable 
time.  The  winter  of  1836  he  spent  at  the  Harbor  in 
the  family  of  Deacon  ffm.  Hubbard,  rendering  valu- 
able service  in  “ pointing  ” the  walls  and  plastering 
the  cellar  of  the  house  now  occupied  as  a store  and 
residence  by  Captain  Starkey.  He  is  still  well  re- 
membered by  A.  F.  Hubbard,  Esq.,  'whose  father 
offered  him  a home  in  his  family;  but  Jake  finally 
left  and  nothing  is  known  of  his  subsequent  course. 

Of  the  two  young  ladies  so  intimately  connected 
with  this  history.  Miss  Bushnell  ultimately  married 
a Mr.  Estabrook,  and  was  for  many  years  one  of  the 
most  esteemed  ladies  of  Warren,  0.,  and  now  sleeps 
in  Oakwood  Cemetery  near  that  beautiful  city.  The 
other  joined  her  destiny  with  that  of  her  affiance 
shortly  after  that  memorable  ride,  and  a few  weeks 
since  I stood  in  the  little  church-yard  at  Burgh  Hill, 
shrouded  as  it  w'as  in  a far-reaching  coverlet  of  snow 
and  copied  the  following  from  a small  marble  head- 
stone : 

“MARY  P.  SUTLIFF, 

Died  March  1st,  1836. 

AE.,  23. 

First  Sec'y  of  Hie  Female  Anti-Slavery  Society  of 
Vernon , A.  D .,  1834.." 


CHAPTER  IV. 


GEORGE  GREEN, 

OR  CONSTANCY  REWARDED. 

[The  circumstances  of  the  following  narative  were  partially 
written  up  when  secured  by  the  author.] 

“TAO  }rou  believe  you  can  succeed,  George?  It  is 

i_y  a great  undertaking.” 

“If  we  can  not  succeed,  Mary,  we  can  try.  This 
servitude  is  worse  than  death.” 

“ But  our  master  is  ver}r  good.” 

“ Yes,  master  is  good  and  kind,  and  no  harm  shall 
come  to  him.  But  no  master  is  as  good  as  freedom.” 

“But  then  the  whites  have  all  the  power  on  their 
side.” 

“ The  whites,  Mary ! Who  are  whiter  than  we — 
than  you  and  I?  You  the  slave  of  your  own  father; 
I sold  from  my  mother’s  arms  that  my  features 
might  not  bring  disgrace  upon  a man  of  position. 
White  folks,  indeed  ! ” 

“ True,  George,  our  lot  is  a wretched  one,  but  then 
as  you  love  me,  and  as  master  and  mistress  are  so 
kind,  would  it  not  be  better  to  remain  quiet,  lest  we, 
too,  are  separated,  and  all  our  hopes  for  life 
blighted  ? ” 

“We  are  taking  a great  risk,  Mary,  but  Nat  says 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


99 


we  can  not  fail.  I sometimes  fear  that  we  shall  and 
I know  the  consequences,  and  will  meet  them  like  a 
man,  for  I know  you  will  love  me  still,  Mary.” 

i!  Yes,  George,  but  the  love  of  a poor  helpless  slave 
girl  can  not  compensate  you  for  what  you  may  have 
to  endure,  perhaps  for  life  itself.” 

“ Mary,  dear  as  you  are  to  me,  liberty  for  us  both, 
or  death  in  attempting  to  secure  it,  will  be  a far 
greater  boon,  coupled  with  your  love,  than  to  share 
that  love,  however  fervent,  through  a life-long  servi- 
tude.” 

“ But,  George,  don’t  you  remember  how  often  you 
have  heard  master  and  his  guests  talk  about  those 
strange  people,  Poles  and  Greeks  they  call  them,  and 
how  they  have  struggled  for  freedom,  only  mostly  to 
make  their  condition  worse  ? ” 

“Yes,  Mary,  and  I have  heard  them  tell  how  they 
wo 

w like  to  go  and  help  them  fight  for  their  liberty. 
Then  I have  heard  master  tell  how  his  own  father 
fought  in  the  war  he  calls  the  Revolution,  and  didn’t 
the  Judge  say  in  his  speech  last  Independence  that 
that  is  the  day,  above  all  others,  which  proclaims 
that  ‘all  men  are  created  free  and  equal?’  Am  I 
not  a man,  and  should  I not  be  equal  to  any  one 
who  calls  himself  master  and  me  slave?  No,  Mary, 
the  die  is  cast  and  six  hundred  slaves — no,  men — 
will  strike  for  freedom  on  these  plantations  in  less 
than  a week.  But  there  is  the  horn,  and  I must  go.” 

The  above  conversation  took  place  in  the  home  of 
a Virginia  planter  more  than  sixty  years  ago.  The 


IOO 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


parties  were  young,  less  than  twenty ; both  white, 
both  slaves,  for  the  peculiar  institution  by  no  means 
attached  itself  to  the  sable  African  alone.  The  fet- 
tered were  of  every  hue,  from  that  of  ebon  blackness 
to  the  purest  caucassion  'white.  Slavery  knew  no 
sacred  ties,  but  only  the  bonds  of  lust.  Hence  this 
strange  gradation  of  color,  for  as  the  master  acknowl- 
edged nothing  more  than  a conventional  marriage, 
so  he  held  out  no  encouragement  to  the  slave  women 
to  be  virtuous  and  chaste.  The  girl  Mary  was,  in- 
deed, the  daughter  of  Mr.  Green,  her  master,  and 
George  the  son  of  a high  government  official,  his 
mother  being  a servant  in  the  Washington  hotel 
where  the  official  boarded.  The  boy  looked  so  akin 
to  his  father  that  he  was  early  sold  to  a slave  dealer 
that  the  scandal  might  be  hushed.  From  this  dealer 
he  was  purchased  by  Mr.  Green,  who  was  indeed  a 
kind-hearted  man  and  treated  his  slaves  with  great 
consideration. 

Both  being  house  servants,  and  thrown  much  to- 
gether, an  earnest  attachment  sprang  up  between 
them.  This  was  by  no  means  discouraged  by  master 
or  mistress.  Though  they  could  neither  read  nor 
write,  their  natural  aptness  and  constant  association 
with  family  and  guests  soon  imparted  to  them  a 
good  degree  of  culture  and  general  information. 

The  cause  of  the  conversation  above  referred  to 
was  the  revelation  to  Mary  by  her  lover  of  a plot  on 
the  part  of  about  six  hundred  slaves  of  the  county 
of  Southampton  to  rise  in  rebellion  and  obtain  their 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


IOI 


freedom.  From  any  participation  in  it  she  would 
gladly  have  dissuaded  him,  though  in  perfect  sym- 
pathy with  his  feelings,  but  the  proud  Anglo-Saxon 
blood  and  spirit  of  George  were  fully  enlisted  in  the 
undertaking,  and  when  “ Nat  Turner’s  Insurrection  ” 
broke  upon  the  astonished  planters  there  was  no 
braver  man  in  its  ranks  than  George.  But  six  hun- 
dred slaves,  imperfectly  armed  as  they  were,  could 
make  but  little  headway.  They  were  soon  defeated. 
Those  who  were  not  captured  fled  to  the  Dismal* 
Swamp.  Here  ordered  to  surrender,  they  challenged 
their  pursuers.  A furious  struggle  ensued  between 
the  owners  and  their  human  chattels,  men  and 
women.  They  were  hunted  with  blood-hounds,  and 
many  who  were  caught  were  tortured  even  unto 
death.  Not  until  the  United  States  troops  were 
called  in,  was  their  forlorn  hope,  struggling  for  free- 
dom, entirely  vanquished. 

Among  the  last  to  surrender  was  George.  He  was 
tried  before  a civil  court  and  condemned  to  be 
hanged.  Ten  days  only  were  to  elapse  before  the 
carrying  out  of  the  sentence. 

Being  a member  of  a Christian  church,  Mary 
sought  and  obtained,  through  the  influence  of  her 
mistress,  with  whom  George  had  been  an  especial 
favorite,  permission  to  visit  him  in  the  jail  and  ad- 
minister the  consolation  of  religion.  Seated  by  his 
side  but  four  days  before  the  day  of  execution,  she 
said : 

“George  you  made  an  effort  for  freedom  against 


102 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


my  wish,  now  will  you  make  another,  one  in  which 
I fully  accord  ? ” 

“ For  me  there  is  no  hope.  Whilst  it  is  hard  to 
part  from  you,  I am  not  afraid  to  die.” 

“ If  you  are  hanged,  we  must  be  separated,  if  you 
escape  it  can  be  no  more.” 

“ Escape  ! how  ? ” 

“ Well,  listen.  You  shall  exchange  clothes  with 
me.  Then  at  my  accustomed  time  of  leaving  you 
shall  depart,  and  I will  remain  in  your  place.  They 
wall  not  harm  me,  and  so  nearly  are  wre  of  a size,  and 
so  close  the  general  resemblance,  that  you  will  have 
no  difficulty  in  passing  the  guard.  Once  without 
the  gate,  you  can  easily  escape  to  the  woods,  the 
mountains,  to  a land  of  liberty.  May  he ” 

“ Never  can  I consent  to  this.  These  miserable 
men  would  wreak  their  vengeance  on  you.” 

“ Never  fear  for  me,  and  may  be  wrhen  you  are 
safe  in  Canada  you  can  provide  for  my  coming  to 
you.” 

“ If  it  were  possible,  but — ” 

The  turnkey  gave  the  signal  for  departure,  and 
Mary  arose  and  left. 

During  the  next  day  she  carefully  prepared  a 
package  of  provisions  and  hid  it  in  a secluded  place. 
The  day  was  dark  and  gloomy,  portending  a storm. 
Just  at  evening  she  presented  herself  at  the  prison 
door  and  was  readily  admitted.  Once  beside  her 
lover,  she  again  importuned  him  to  make  an  effort 
to  escape.  ■ At  last  he  consented.  It  was  but  the 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


103 


work  of  a moment  to  exchange  clothing,  to  impart 
the  necessary  instructions  with  regard  to  the  provis- 
ions, to  pledge  one  another  to  eternal  constancy, 
when  the  door  opened  and  the  harsh  voice  of  the 
keeper  exclaimed,  “ Come,  Miss,  it  is  time  for  you  to 
go.” 

It  was  now  storming  furiously.  Weeping  and 
with  a handkerchief  applied  to  his  face,  as  was 
Mary’s  custom  when  leaving,  George  passed  out  and 
the  door  immediately  closed  upon  the  innocent  in- 
mate of  the  cell. 

It  was  now  dark,  so  that  our  hero  in  his  new 
dress  had  no  fear  of  detection.  The  provisions  wrere 
sought  and  found,  and  poor  George  was  soon  on  the 
road  to  Canada.  But  neither  he  nor  Mary  had 
thought  of  a change  of  dress  for  him  when  he  should 
have  escaped,  and  he  walked  but  a short  distance 
before  he  felt  that  a change  of  his  apparel  would 
facilitate  his  progress.  But  he  dared  not  go  among 
even  his  colored  associates,  for  fear  of  being  be- 
trayed. However,  he  made  the  best  of  his  wray  on 
towards  Canada^  hiding  in  the  wToods  by  day  and 
traveling  by  the  guidance  of  the  pole  star  at  night. 

One  morning  George  arrived  on  the  banks  of  the 
Ohio  river,  and  found  his  journey  had  terminated 
unless  he  could  get  some  one  to  take  him  across  in  a 
secret  manner,  for  he  wTould  not  be  permitted  to 
cross  in  any  of  the  ferry  boats.  He  concealed  him- 
self in  tall  grass  and  weeds  near  the  river  to  see  if 
he  could  not  secure  an  opportunity  to  cross.  He 


104 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


had  been  in  his  hiding  place  but  a short  time,  when 
he  observed  a man  in  a small  boat,  floating  near  the 
shore,  evidently  fishing.  His  first  impulse  was  to 
call  out  to  the  man  and  ask  him  to  take  him  across 
the  river  to  the  Ohio  shore,  but  the  fear  that  he  was 
a slaveholder  or  one  who  might  possibly  arrest  him 
deterred  him  from  it.  The  man  after  rowing  and 
floating  about  for  some  time,  fastened  the  boat  to  the 
root  of  a tree,  and  started  to  a farm-house  not  far 
distant.  This  was  George’s  opportunity,  and  he 
seized  it.  Running  down  the  bank,  he  unfastened 
the  boat  and  jumped  in,  and  with  all  the  expertness 
of  one  accustomed  to  a boat,  rowed  across  the  river 
and  landed  safely  on  free  soil. 

Being  now  in  a free  state,  he  thought  he  might 
with  perfect  safety  travel  on  towards  Canada.  He 
had,  however,  gone  but  a few  miles,  when  he  dis- 
covered two  men  on  horseback  coming  behind  him. 
He  felt  sure  that  they  could  not  be  in  pursuit  of  him, 
yet  he  did  not  wish  to  be  seen  by  them,  so  he  turned 
into  another  road  leading  to  a house  near  by.  The 
men  followed,  and  were  but  a short  distance  from 
George,  when  he  ran  up  to  a farm-house,  before 
which  was  standing  a farmer-looking  man,  in  a 
broad-brimmed  hat  and  straight-collared  coat,  whom 
he  implored  to  save  him  from  the  “ slave-catchers.” 
The  farmer  told  him  to  go  into  the  barn  near  by  ; he 
entered  by  the  front  door,  the  farmer  following  and 
closing  the  door  behind  George,  but  remaining  out- 
side,  gave  directions  to  his  hired  man  as  to  what 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


105 

should  be  done  with  him.  The  slaveholders  had 
by  this  time  dismounted,  and  were  in  front  of  the 
barn  demanding  admittance,  and  charging  the  farmer 
with  secreting  their  slave  woman,  for  George  was 
still  in  the  dress  of  a woman.  The  Friend,  for  the 
farmer  proved  to  be  a member  of  the  Society  of 
Quakers,  told  the  slave-owners  that  if  they  wished  to 
search  his  barn,  they  must  first  get  an  officer  and  a 
search  warrant.  While  the  parties  were  disputing, 
the  farmer  began  nailing  up  the  front  door,  and  the 
hired  man  served  the  back  door  the  same  way. 
The  slaveholders,  finding  that  they  could  not  prevail 
on  the  Friend  to  allow  them  to  get  the  slave,  deter- 
mined to  go  in  search  of  an  officer.  One  was  left  to 
see  that  the  slave  did  not  escape  from  the  barn,  while 
the  other  went  off  at  full  speed  to  Mt.  Pleasant,  the 
nearest  town. 

George  was  not  the  slave  of  either  of  these  men, 
nor  were  they  in  pursuit  of  him,  but  they  had  lost  a 
woman  who  had  been  seen  in  that  vicinity,  and 
when  they  saw  poor  George  in  the  disguise  of  a fe- 
male, and  attempting  to  elude  pursuit,  they  felt  sure 
they  were  close  upon  their  victim.  However,  if  they 
had  caught  him,  although  he  was  not  their  slave 
they  would  have  taken  him  back  and  placed  him  in 
jail,  and  there  he  would  have  remained  until  his 
owner  arrived. 

After  an  absence  of  nearly  two  hours,  the  slave- 
owner returned  with  an  officer,  and  found  the  Friend 
still  driving  large  nails  into  the  door.  In  a 


106  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

triumphant  tone,  and  with  a corresponding  gesture, 
he  handed  the  search-warrant  to  the  Friend,  and  said: 

“ There,  sir,  now  I will  see  if  he  can’t  get  my 
Nigger.” 

“ Well,”  said  the  Friend,  “ thou  hast  gone  to  work 
according  to  law,  and  thou  canst  now  go  into  my 
barn.” 

“ Lend  me  your  hammer  that  I may  get  the  door 
open,”  said  the  slaveholder.” 

“ Let  me  see  the  warrant  again.”  And  after  read- 
ing it  over  once  more,  he  said,  “ I see  nothing  in 
this  paper  which  says  I must  supply  thee  with  tools 
to  open  my  door ; if  thou  wishest  to  go  in  thou  must 
get  a hammer  elsewhere.” 

The  sheriff  said : “ I will  go  to  a neighboring 

farm  and  borrow  something  which  will  introduce  us 
to  Miss  Dinah;”  and  he  immediately  went  off  in 
search  of  tools. 

In  a short  time  the  officer  returned,  and  they  com- 
menced an  assault  and  battery  upon  the  barn  door, 
which  soon  yielded;  and  in  went  the  slaveholder 
and  officer,  and  began  turning  up  the  hay  and  using 
all  other  means  to  find  the  lost  property ; but,  to 
their  astonishment,  the  slave  was  not  there.  After 
all  hopes  of  getting  Dinah  were  gone,  the  slave- 
owner, in  a rage,  said  to  the  Friend : 

“My  Nigger  is  not  here.” 

“ I did  not  tell  thee  there  was  anyone  here.” 

“ Yes,  but  I saw  her  go  in,  and  you  shut  the  door 
behind  her,  and  if  she  wa’nt  in  the  barn  what  did 
you  nail  the  door  for?” 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


107 


“ Can  not  I do  what  I please  with  my  own  barn 
door?  Now  I will  tell  thee.  Thou  need  trouble 
thyself  no  more,  for  the  person  thou  art  after  entered 
the  front  door  and  went  out  the  back  door,  and  is  a 
long  way  from  here  by  this  time  Thou  and  thy 
friend  must  be  somewhat  fatigued  by  this  time ; 
won’t  thee  go  in  and  take  a little  dinner  with  me  ? ” 

We  need  not  say  that  this  cool  invitation  of  the 
good  Quaker  was  not  accepted  by  the  slaveholders. 

George  in  the  meantime  had  been  taken  to  a 
Friend’s  dwelling  some  miles  away,  where,  after  lay- 
ing aside  his  female  attire,  and  being  snugly  dressed 
up  in  a straight-collared  coat,  and  pantaloons  to 
match,  he  was  again  put  on  the  right  road  towards 
Canada. 

His  passage  through  Ohio,  by  the  way  of  Canfield 
and  Warren,  was  uneventful,  but  at  Bloomfield  he 
was  detained  several  days  on  account  of  the  presence 
of  some  slave  hunters  from  his  own  state,  and  who 
had  a description  of  him  among  others.  In  this 
town  is  a great  marsh  or  swamp  of  several  thousand 
acres,  at  the  time  of  our  story  all  undrained.  In  the 
center  of  this  swamp,  Mr.  Brown,  the  owner,  had 
erected  a small  hut,  one  of  the  very  first  special  sta- 
tions built  on  the  Underground  Railroad.  To  this 
secluded  retreat  George  was  taken,  and  there  re- 
mained until  the  departure  of  his  enemies,  when  he 
was  safely  conveyed  to  Ashtabula  Harbor,  whence 
he  was  given  free  passage,  by  the  veteran  agent, 
Hubbard,  of  the  Mystic  Line  in  Canada.  Arriving 


108  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

at  St.  Catherines,  he  began  to  work  upon  the  farm  of 
Colonel  Strut,  and  also  attended  a night  school, 
where  he  showed  great  proficiency  in  acquiring  the 
rudiments  of  an  education. 

Once  beginning  to  earn  money,  George  did  not 
forget  his  promise  to  use  all  means  in  his  power  to 
get  Mary  out  of  slavery.  He,  therefore,  labored  with 
all  his  might  to  obtain  money  with  which  to  employ 
some  one  to  go  back  to  Virginia  for  Mary.  After 
nearly  six  month’s  labor  at  St.  Catharines,  he  em- 
ployed an  English  missionary  to  go  and  see  if  the 
girl  could  be  purchased,  and  at  what  price.  The 
missionary  went  accordingly,  but  returned  with  the 
sad  intelligence  that  on  account  of  Mary’s  aiding 
George  to  escape,  the  court  had  compelled  Mr.  Green 
to  sell  her  out  of  the  State,  and  she  had  been  sold  to 
a Negro-trader  and  taken  to  the  New  Orleans  market. 
As  all  hope  of  getting  the  girl  was  now  gone,  George 
resolved  to  quit  the  American  continent  forever.  He 
immediately  took  passage  in  a vessel  laden  with 
timber,  bound  for  Liverpool,  and  in  five  weeks  from 
the  time  he  was  standing  on  a quay  of  the  great 
English  seaport.  With  little  education,  he  found 
many  difficulties  in  the  way  of  getting  a respec- 
table living.  However,  he  obtained  a situation 
as  porter  in  a large  house  in  Manchester,  where  he 
worked  during  the  day,  and  took  private  lessons  at 
night.  In  this  way  he  labored  for  three  years,  and 
was  then  raised  to  the  position  of  clerk.  George  was 
so  white  as  easily  to  pass  for  Caucassian,  and  being 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


109 

somewhat  ashamed  of  his  African  decent,  he  never 
once  mentioned  the  fact  of  his  having  been  a slave. 
He  soon  became  a partner  in  the  firm  that  employed 
him,  and  was  now  on  the  road  to  wealth. 

In  the  year  1842,  just  ten  years  after,  George 
Green,  for  so  he  called  himself,  arrived  in  England, 
he  visited  France,  and  spent  some  days  at  Dunkirk. 

It  was  towards  sunset,  on  a warm  day  in  the 
month  of  October,  that  Mr.  Green,  after  strolling 
some  distance  from  the  Hotel  de  Leon,  entered  a 
burial  ground  and  wandered  long  alone  among  the 
silent  dead,  gazing  upon  the  many  green  graves  and 
marble  tombstones  of  those  who  once  moved  on  the 
theatre  of  busy  life,  and  whose  sounds  of  gayety 
once  fell  upon  the  ear  of  man.  All  nature  was 
hushed  in  silence,  and  seemed  to  partake  of  the  gen- 
eral melancholy  which  hung  over  the  quiet  resting- 
place  of  departed  mortals.  After  tracing  the  varied 
inscriptions  which  told  the  characters  or  conditions 
of  the  departed,  and  viewing  the  mounds  beneath 
which  the  dust  of  mortality  slumbered,  he  had 
reached  a secluded  spot,  near  to  where  an  aged  weep- 
ing willow  bowed  its  thick  foliage  to  the  ground,  as 
though  anxious  to  hide  from  the  scrutinizing  gaze  of 
curiosity  the  grave  beneath  it.  Mr.  Green  seated 
himself  upon  a marble  tomb,  and  began  to  read 
Roscoe’s  Leo  X.,  a copy  of  which  he  had  under  his 
arm.  It  was  then  about  twilight,  and  he  had  scarcely 
read  half  a page,  when  he  observed  a lady  dressed  in 
black,  and  leading  a boy  some  five  years  old  up  one 


I IO 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


ol  the  paths ; and  as  the  lady’s  black  veil  was  over  her 
face,  he  felt  somewhat  at  liberty  to  eye  her  more 
closely.  While  looking  at  her,  the  lady  gave  a 
scream  and  appeared  to  be  in  a fainting  position, 
when  Mr.  Green  sprang  from  his  seat  in  time  to  save 
her  from  falling  to  the  ground.  At  this  moment  an 
elderly  gentleman  was  seen  approaching  with  a rapid 
step,  who,  from  his  appearance,  was  evidently  the 
lady’s  father,  or  one  intimately  connected  with  her. 
He  came  up,  and  in  a confused  manner  asked  what 
was  the  matter.  Mr.  Green  explained  as  well  as  he 
could.  After  taking  up  the  smelling  bottle,  which 
had  fallen  from  her  hand,  and  holding  it  a short 
time  to  her  face,  she  soon  began  to  revive.  During 
all  this  time  the  lady’s  veil  had  so  covered  her  face 
that  Mr.  Green  had  not  seen  it.  When  she  had  so 
far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  raise  her  head,  she 
again  screamed,  and  fell  back  in  the  arms  of  the  old 
man.  It  now  appeared  quite  certain  that  either  the 
countenance  of  George  Green,  or  some  other  object, 
was  the  cause  of  these  fits  of  fainting ; and  the  old 
gentleman,  thinking  it  was  the  former,  in  rather  a 
petulant  tone,  said,  “ I will  thank  you,  sir,  if  you 
will  leave  us  alone.”  The  child  whom  the  lady  was 
leading  had  now  set  up  a squall ; and  amid  the 
death-like  appearance  of  the  lady,  the  harsh  look  of 
the  old  man,  and  the  cries  of  the  boy,  Mr.  Green  left 
the  grounds  and  returned  to  his  hotel. 

Whilst  seated  by  the  window,  and  looking  out 
upon  the  crowded  street,  with  every  now  and  then 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


Ill 


the  strange  scene  in  the  graveyard  vividly  before 
him,  Mr.  Green  thought  of  the  book  he  had  been 
reading,  and  remembering  that  he  had  left  it  on  the 
tomb,  where  he  had  suddenly  dropped  it  when 
called  to  the  assistance  of  the  lady,  he  immediately 
determined  to  return  in  search  of  it.  After  a walk  of 
some  twenty  minutes,  he  was  again  over  the  spot 
where  he  had  been  an  hour  before,  and  from  where 
he  had  been  so  uncermoniously  expelled  by  the  old 
man.  He  looked  in  vain  for  the  book;  it  was  no- 
where to  be  found;  nothing  save  the  bouquet  which 
the  lady  had  dropped,  and  which  lay  half  buried  in 
the  grass  from  having  been  trodden  upon,  indicated 
that  any  one  had  been  there  that  evening.  Mr. 
Green  took  up  the  bunch  of  flowers,  and  again  re- 
turned to  the  hotel. 

After  passing  a sleepless  night,  and  hearing  the 
clock  strike  six,  he  dropped  into  a sweet  sleep,  from 
which  he  did  not  awake  until  roused  by  the  rap  of  a 
servant,  who,  entering  the  room,  handed  him  a note 
which  ran  as  follows: — 

“ Sir : I owe  an  apology  for  the  inconvenience  to  which 
you  were  subjected  last  evening,  and  if  you  will  honor  us 
with  your  presence  to  dinner  to-day  at  four  o’clock,  I shall 
be  most  happy  to  give  you  due  satisfaction.  My  servant 
will  be  in  waiting  for  you  at  half-past  three. 

I am,  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  Devenant. 

To  George  Green,  Esq.  October  23.” 

The  servant  who  handed  this  note  to  Mr.  Green 
informed  him  that  the  bearer  was  waiting  for  a 


1 12 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


reply.  He  immediately  resolved  to  accept  the  invita- 
tion, and  replied  accordingly.  Who  this  person  was, 
and  how  his  name  and  hotel  where  he  was  stopping 
had  been  found  out,  was  indeed  a mystery.  How- 
ever, he  waited  somewhat  impatiently  for  the  hour 
when  he  was  to  see  his  new  acquaintance,  and  get 
the  mysterious  meeting  in  the  grave-yard  solved. 

The  clock  on  the  neighboring  church  had  scarcely 
ceased  striking  three,  when  the  servant  announced 
that  a carriage  had  called  for  Mr.  Green.  In  less 
than  half  an  hour  he  was  seated  in  a most  sumptu- 
ous barouche,  drawn  by  two  beautiful  iron  grays, 
and  rolling  along  over  a splendid  gravel  road,  com- 
pletely shaded  by  large  trees  which  appeared  to  have 
been  the  accumulated  growth  of  centuries.  The 
carriage  soon  stopped  in  front  of  a low  villa,  and  this 
too  was  imbedded  in  magnificent  trees  covered  with 
moss.  Mr.  Green  alighted  and  was  shown  into  a 
superb  drawing-room,  the  walls  of  which  were  hung 
with  fine  specimens  from  the  hands  of  the  great 
Italian  painters,  and  one  by  a German  artist  repre- 
senting a beautiful  monkish  legend  connected  with 
“ The  Holy  Catharine,’'  an  illustrious  lady  of  Alex- 
andra. The  furniture  had  an  antique  and  dignified 
appearance.  High-backed  chairs  stood  around  the 
room  ; a venerable  mirror  stood  on  the  mantle  shelf ; 
rich  curtains  of  crimson  damask  hung  in  folds  at 
either  side  of  the  large  windows;  and  a rich  Turkish 
carpet  covered  the  floor.  In  the  center  stood  a table 
covered  with  books,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  an 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


1 13 

old-fashioned  vase  filled  with  fresh  flowers,  whose 
fragrance  was  exceedingly  pleasant.  A faint  light, 
together  with  the  quietness  of  the  hour,  gave  a 
beauty,  beyond  description,  to  the  whole  scene. 

Mr.  Green  had  scarcely  seated  himself  upon  the 
sofa,  when  the  elderly  gentleman  whom  he  had  met 
the  previous  evening  made  his  appearance,  followed 
by  the  little  boy,  and  introduced  himself  as  Mr. 
Devenant.  A moment  more,  and  a lady — a beauti- 
ful brunette — dressed  in  black,  with  long  curls  01  a 
chestnut  color  hanging  down  her  cheeks,  entered  the 
room.  Her  eyes  wTere  of  a dark  hazel,  and  her  whole 
appearance  indicated  that  she  was  a native  of  a 
southern  clime.  The  door  at  which  she  entered  wras. 
opposite  to  where  the  two  gentlemen  were  seated. 
They  immediately  arose ; and  Mr.  Devenant  was  in 
the  act  of  introducing  her  to  Mr.  Green,  when  he  ob- 
served that  the  latter  had  sunk  back  upon  the  sofa, 
and  the  last  word  that  he  remembered  to  have  heard 
was,  “ It  is  she.”  After  this  all  was  dark  and  dreary  ; 
how  long  he  remained  in  this  condition  it  was  for 
another  to  tell.  When  he  awoke  he  found  himself 
stretched  upon  the  sofa  with  his  boots  off,  his  necker- 
chief removed,  shirt-collar  unbuttoned,  and  his  head 
resting  upon  a pillow.  By  his  side  sat  the  old  man, 
with  the  smelling  bottle  in  one  hand,  and  a glass  of 
water  in  the  other,  and  the  little  boy  standing  at  the 
foot  of  the  sofa.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Green  had  so  far 
recovered  as  to  be  able  to  speak,  he  said  : 

“ Where  am  I,  and  what  does  this  mean  ?” 


I 14  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

“ Wait  awhile,”  replied  the  old  man,  “ and  I will 
tell  you  all.” 

After  a lapse  of  some  ten  minutes  he  rose  from  the 
sofa,  adjusted  his  apparel,  and  said  : 

“ I am  now  ready  to  hear  anything  you  have  to 
say.” 

“ You  were  bom  in  America?  ” said  the  old  man. 

“ Yes,”  he  replied. 

“ And  you  were  acquainted  with  a girl  named 
Mary  ? ” continued  the  old  man. 

“ Yes,  and  I loved  her  as  I can  love  none  other.” 

“ That  lady  whom  you  met  so  mysteriously  last 
evening  is  Mary,”  replied  Mr.  Devenant. 

George  Green  was  silent,  but  the  fountains  of  min- 
gled grief  and  joy  stole  out  from  beneath  his  eye- 
lashes, and  glistened  like  pearls  upon  his  pale  and 
marble-like  cheeks.  At  this  juncture  the  lady  again 
entered  the  room.  Mr.  Green  sprang  from  the  sofa, 
and  they  fell  into  each  other’s  arms,  to  the  surprise 
ol  the  old  man  and  little  George,  and  to  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  servants,  who  had  crept  up  one  by  one, 
and  wrere  hidden  behind  the  doors  or  loitering  in 
the  hall.  When  they  had  given  vent  to  their  feel- 
ings, they  resumed  their  seats,  and  each  in  turn  re- 
lated the  adventures  through  which  they  had 
passed. 

“ How  did  you  find  out  my  name  and  address?  ” 
asked  Mr.  Green. 

“ After  you  had  left  us  in  the  grave-yard,  our  lit- 
tle George  said,  ‘0,  mamma,  if  there  ain’t  a book!’ 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


1 15 

and  picked  it  up  and  brought  it  to  us.  Papa  opened 
it,  and  said,  ‘ The  gentleman’s  name  is  written  in  it, 
and  here  is  a card  of  the  Hotel  de  Leon,  where  I sup- 
pose he  is  stopping.’  Papa  wished  to  leave  the  book, 
and  said  it  was  all  a fancy  of  mine  that  I had  ever 
seen  you  before,  but  I was  perfectly  convinced  that 
you  were  my  own  George  Green.  Are  you  married?  ” 

“ No,  I am  not.” 

“ Then,  thank  God ! ” exclaimed  Mrs.  Devenant, 
for  such  her  name. 

The  old  man,  who  had  been  silent  all  this  time,, 
said : 

“ Now,  sir,  I must  apologize  for  the  trouble  you 
were  put  to  last  evening.” 

“ And  are  you  single  now  ? ” asked  Mr.  Green, 
addressing  the  lady. 

“ Yes,”  she  replied. 

“ This  is  indeed  the  Lord’s  doings,”  said  Mr.  Green, 
at  the  same  time  bursting  into  a Hood  of  tears. 

Although  Mr.  Devenant  was  past  the  age  when 
men  should  think  upon  matrimonial  subjects,  yet 
this  scene  brought  vividly  before  his  eyes  the  days 
when  he  was  a young  man,  and  had  a wife  living, 
and  he  thought  it  was  time  to  call  their  attention  to 
dinner,  which  was  then  waiting.  We  need  scarcely 
add  that  Mr.  Green  and  Mrs.  Devenant  did  very  lit- 
tle towards  diminishing  the  dinner  that  day. 

After  dinner  the  lovers  (for  such  we  have  to  call 
them)  gave  their  experience  from  the  time  that 
George  Green  left  the  jail,  dressed  in  Mary’s  clothes. 


1 1 6 FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

Up  to  that  time  Mr.  Green’s  was  substantially  as  we 
have  related  it.  Mrs.  Devenant’s  was  as  follows : 

“ The  night  after  you  left  the  prison.”  she  said, 
“ I did  not  shut  my  eye3  in  sleep.  The  next  morn- 
ing, about  eight  o’clock,  Peter,  the  gardener,  came  to 
the  jail  to  see  if  I had  been  there  the  night  before, 
and  was  informed  that  I had  left  a little  after  dark. 
About  an  hour  after,  Mr.  Green  came  himself,  and  1 
need  not  say  that  he  was  much  surprised  on  finding 
me  there,  dressed  in  your  clothes.  This  was  the 
first  tidings  they  had  of  your  escape.” 

“ What  did  Mr.  Green  say  when  he  found  that  I 
had  fled  ? ” 

u O ” continued  Mrs.  Devenant,  “ he  said  to  me 
when  no  one  was  near,  ‘ I hope  George  will  get  off, 
but  I fear  you  will  have  to  suffer  in  his  stead.  I 
told  him  that  if  it  must  be  so  I was  willing  to  die  if 
you  could  live.” 

At  this  moment  George  Green  burst  into  tears, 
threw  his  arms  around  her  neck,  and  exclaimed,  “I 
am  glad  I have  waited  so  long,  with  the  hope  of 
meeting  you  again.” 

Mrs.  Devenant  again  resumed  her  story  : “ I was 

kept  in  jail  three  days,  during  which  time  I was  vis- 
ited by  the  magistrates  and  two  of  the  judges.  On 
the  third  day  I was  taken  out,  and  master  told  me 
that  I was  liberated  upon  condition  that  I be  imme- 
diately sent  out  of  the  State.  There  happened  to  be, 
just  at  that  time,  in  the  neighborhood,  a Negro- 
trader,  and  he  purchased  me  and  I was  taken  to  New 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


117 

Orleans.  On  the  steamboat  we  were  kept  in  a close 
room  where  slaves  are  usually  confined,  so  that  I 
saw  nothing  of  the  passengers  on  board,  or  the  towns 
we  passed.  We  arrived  at  New  Orleans,  and  were 
all  put  in  the  slave  market  for  sale.  I was  examined 
by  many  persons,  but  none  seemed  willing  to  pur- 
chase me;  as  all  thought  me  too  white,  and  said  I 
would  run  away  and  pass  as  a white  woman.  On 
the  second  day,  while  in  the  slave  market,  and  while 
planters  and  others  were  examining  slaves  and  mak- 
ing their  purchases,  I observed  a tall  young  man 
with  long  black  hair  eyeing  me  very  closely,  and 
then  talking  to  the  trader.  I felt  sure  that  my  time 
had  now  come,  but  the  day  closed  without  my  being- 
sold.  I did  not  regret  this,  for  I had  heard  that 
foreigners  made  the  worst  of  masters,  and  I felt  con- 
fident that  the  man  who  eyed  me  so  closely  was  not 
an  American. 

“ The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath.  The  bells  called 
the  people  to  the  different  places  of  worship.  Metho- 
dists sang,  and  Baptists  immersed,  and  Presbyterians 
sprinkled,  and  Episcopalians  read  their  prayers, 
while  the  ministers  of  the  various  sects  preached 
that  Christ  died  for  all;  yet  there  was  some  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  of  us  poor  creatures  confined  in  the 
£ Negro-Pen,’  awaiting  the  close  of  the  holy  Sabbath 
and  the  dawn  of  another  day,  to  be  again  taken  into 
the  market,  there  to  be  examined  like  so  many 
beasts  of  burden.  I need  not  tell  you  with  what 
anxiety  we  waited  for  the  advent  of  another  day. 


I 1 8 FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

On  Monday  we  were  again  brought  out,  and  placed 
in  rows  to  be  inspected;  and,  fortunately  for  me,  I 
was  sold  before  we  had  been  on  the  stand  an  hour. 
I was  purchased  by  a gentleman  residing  in  the  city, 
for  a waiting-maid  for  his  wife,  who  was  just  on  the 
eve  of  starting  for  Mobile,  to  pay  a visit  to  a near 
relative.  I was  dressed  to  suit  the  situation  of  a 
maid-servant ; and,  upon  the  whole,  I thought  that 
in  my  new  dress  I looked  as  much  the  lady  as  my 
mistress. 

“ On  the  passage  to  Mobile,  who  should  I see, 
among  the  passengers,  but  the  tall,  long-haired  man 
that  had  eyed  me  so  closely  in  the  slave  market  a 
few  day  before.  His  eyes  were  again  on  me,  and  he 
appeared  anxious  to  speak  to  me,  and  I as  reluctant 
to  be  spoken  to.  The  first  evening  after  leaving 
New  Orleans,  soon  after  twilight  had  let  her  curtain 
down,  while  I was  seated  on  the  deck  of  the  boat, 
near  the  ladies’  cabin,  looking  upon  the  rippled 
waves,  and  the  reflection  of  the  moon  upon  the  sea, 
all  at  onee  I saw  the  tall  young  man  standing  by  my 
side.  I immediately  arose  from  my  seat,  and  was  in 
the  act  of  returning  to  the  cabin,  when  he  in  broken 
accent  said : 

‘“Stop  a moment;  I wish  to  have  a word  with 
you.  I am  your  friend.’ 

“ I stopped  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  and 
he  said,  ‘ I saw  you  some  days  since  in  the  slave 
market,  and  I intended  to  have  purchased  you  to 
save  you  from  the  condition  of  a slave.  I called  on 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


119 

Monday,  but  you  had  been  sold  and  had  left  the 
market.  I inquired  and  learned  who  the  purchaser 
was,  and  that  you  had  to  go  to  Mobile,  so  I resolved 
to  follow  you.  If  you  are  willing  I will  try  and  buy 
you  from  your  present  owner,  and  you  shall  be  free.’ 

“ Although  this  was  said  in  an  honest  and  off- 
hand manner,  I could  not  believe  the  man  was  sin- 
cere in  what  he  said. 

“ ‘ Why  should  you  wish  to  set  me  free  ? ’ I asked. 

‘“I  had  an  only  sister,’  he  replied,  ‘who  died 
three  years  ago  in  France,  and  you  are  so  much  like 
her  that,  had  I not  known  of  her  death,  I would 
most  certainly  have  taken  you  for  her.’ 

“ ‘ However  much  I may  resemble  your  sister,  you 
are  aware  that  I am  not  her,  and  why  take  so  much 
interest  in  one  whom  you  have  never  seen  before  ? ’ 

“ ‘ The  love,’  said  he,  ‘ which  I had  for  my  sister  is 
transferred  to  you.’ 

“ I had  all  along  suspected  that  the  man  was  a 
knave,  and  his  profession  of  love  confirmed  me  in 
my  former  belief,  and  I turned  away  and  left  him. 

“ The  next  day,  while  standing  in  the  cabin  and 
looking  through  the  window,  the  French  gentleman 
(for  such  he  was)  came  to  the  window,  while  walk- 
ing on  the  guards,  and  again  commenced  as  on  the 
previous  evening.  He  took  from  his  pocket  a bit  of 
paper  and  put  it  into  my  hand,  at  the  same  time 
saying : 

“‘Take  this;  it  may  some  day  be  of  sendee  to 
you.  Remember  it  is  from  a friend,’  and  left  me 
instantly. 


120 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“ I unfolded  the  paper  and  found  it  to  be  a $100 
bank  note,  on  the  United  States  Branch  Bank,  at 
Philadelphia.  My  first  impulse  was  to  give  it  to  my 
mistress,  but  upon  a second  thought,  I resolved  to 
seek  an  opportunity,  and  to  return  the  hundred  dol- 
lars to  the  stranger.  Therefore  I looked  for  him,  but 
in  vain ; and  had  almost  given  up  the  idea  of  seeing 
him  again,  when  he  passed  me  on  the  guards  of  the 
boat  and  walked  towards  the  stern  of  the  vessel.  It 
being  nearly  dark  I approached  him  and  offered  the 
money  to  him. 

“ He  declined,  saying  at  the  same  time,  ‘ I gave  it 
you — keep  it.’ 

“ ‘ I do  not  want  it,’  I said. 

“ ‘ Now,’  said  he,  ‘ you  had  better  give  your  con- 
sent for  me  to  purchase  you,  and  you  shall  go  with 
me  to  France.’ 

“‘But  you  cannot  buy  me  now,’ I replied,  ‘for 
my  master  is  in  New  Orleans,  and  he  purchased  me 
not  to  sell,  but  to  retain  in  his  own  family.’ 

“‘Would  you  rather  remain  with  your  present 
mistress  than  to  be  free  ? ’ 

“ ‘ No,’  said  I. 

“‘Then  fly  with  me  to-night;  we  shall  be  in  Mo- 
bile in  two  hours  from  this  time,  and  when  the  pas- 
sengers are  going  on  shore,  you  can  take  my  arm, 
and  you  can  escape  unobserved.  The  trader  who 
brought  you  to  New  Orleans  exhibited  to  me  a cer- 
tificate of  your  good  character,  and  one  from  the 
minister  of  the  church  to  which  you  were  attached 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


I 2 I 


in  Virginia ; and  upon  the  faith  of  these  assurances, 
and  the  love  I bear  you,  I promise  before  high 
heaven  that  I will  marry  you  as  soon  as  it  can  be 
done.’ 

‘•This  solemn  promise,  coupled  with  what  had 
already  transpired,  gave  me  confidence  in  the  man  ; 
and,  rash  as  the  act  may  seem,  I determined  in  an 
instant  to  go  with  him.  My  mistress  had  been  put 
under  the  charge  of  the  captain  ; and  as  it  would  be 
past  ten  o’clock  when  the  steamer  would  land,  she 
accepted  an  invitation  of  the  captain  to  remain  on 
board  wdth  several  other  ladies  till  morning. 

“ I dressed  myself  in  my  best  clothes,  and  put  a 
veil  over  my  face,  and  was  ready  on  the  landing  of 
the  boat.  Surrounded  by  a number  of  passengers, 
we  descended  the  stage  leading  to  the  wharf  and 
were  soon  lost  in  the  crowd  that  thronged  the  quay. 
As  we  went  on  shore  we  encountered  several  persons 
announcing  the  names  of  hotels,  the  starting  of  boats 
for  the  interior,  and  vessels  bound  for  Europe. 
Among  these  was  the  ship  Utica,  Captain  Pell,  bound 
for  Havre. 

“ ‘ Now,’  said  Mr.  Devenant,  this  is  our  chance.’ 

“ The  ship  was  to  sail  at  twrelve  o’clock  that  night, 
at  high  tide ; and  following  the  men  who  were  seek- 
ing passengers,  we  wrere  immediately  on  board.  De- 
venant told  the  captain  of  the  ship  that  I was  his 
sister,  and  for  such  we  passed  during  the  long  voy- 
age. At  the  hour  of  twelve  the  Utica  set  sail,  and 
w7e  were  soon  out  at  sea. 


122 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“ The  morning  after  we  left  Mobile,  Devenant  met 
me  as  I came  from  my  state-room  and  embraced  me 
for  the  first  time.  I loved  him,  but  it  was  only  that 
affection  which  we  have  for  one  who  has  done  us  a 
lasting  favor  ; it  was  the  love  of  gratitude  rather  than 
that  of  the  heart.  We  wrere  five  weeks  on  the  sea, 
and  yet  the  passage  did  not  seem  long,  for  Devenant 
was  so  kind.  On  our  arrival  at  Havre,  we  were  mar- 
ried and  came  to  Dunkirk,  and  I have  resided  here 
ever  since.” 

At  the  close  of  this  narrative,  the  clock  struck  ten, 
when  the  old  man,  -who  was  accustomed  to  retire  at 
an  early  hour,  rose  to  take  leave,  saying  at  the  same 
time: 

“I  hope  you  will  remain  with  us  to-night.” 

Mr.  Green  would  fain  have  excused  himself,  on 
the  ground  that  they  would  expect  him  and  wait  at 
the  hotel,  but  a look  from  the  lady  told  him  to  ac- 
cept the  invitation.  The  old  man  was  the  father  of 
Mrs.  Devenant’s  deceased  husband,  as  you  will  no 
doubt  long  since  have  supposed. 

A fortnight  from  the  day  on  which  they  met  in  the 
grave-yard  Mr.  Green  and  Mrs.  Devenant  were  joined 
in  holy  wedlock ; so  that  George  and  Mary,  who 
had  loved  each  other  so  ardently  in  their  younger 
days,  were  now  husband  and  wife. 

A celebrated  writer  has  justly  said  of  women : 
“A  woman’s  whole  life  is  a history  of  affections. 
The  heart  is  her  world ; it  is  there  her  ambition 
strives  for  empire ; it  is  there  her  avarice  seeks  for 


GEORGE  GREEN. 


123 


hidden  treasures.  She  sends  forth  her  sympathies 
on  adventure  ; she  embarks  her  whole  soul  in  the 
traffic  of  affection ; and  if  shipwrecked,  her  case  is 
hopeless,  for  it  is  bankruptcy  of  the  heart.” 

Mary  had  ever  reason  to  believe  that  she  would 
never  see  George  again ; and  although  she  confessed 
that  the  love  she  bore  him  was  never  transferred  to 
her  first  husband,  we  can  scarcely  find  fault  with  her 
for  marrying  Mr.  Devenant.  But  the  adherence  of 
George  Green  to  the  resolution  never  to  marry,  un- 
less to  his  Mary,  is,  indeed,  a rare  instance  of  the 
fidelity  of  man  in  the  matter  of  love.  We  can  but 
blush  for  our  country’s  shame,  when  we  call  to  mind 
the  fact,  that  while  George  and  Mary  Green,  and 
numbers  of  other  fugitives  from  American  slavery, 
could  receive  protection  from  any  of  the  governments 
of  Europe,  they  could  not  in  safety  return  to  their 
own  land  until  countless  treasure,  untold  suffering 
and  anguish,  and  the  life  blood  of  half  a million 
men.  had  been  paid  as  the  price  of  the  bondman’s 
chain. 


CHAPTER  V. 


HOW  SOL.  JONES  WAS  LEFT. 

I. 

DURING  the  decade  of  the  thirties,  and  for 
years  afterward,  there  resided  on  an  affluent 
of  the  Rappahannock,  in  Culpepper  county,  Vir- 
ginia, one  Solomon  Jones.  Mr.  Jones  was  the  in- 
heritor of  an  estate  with  all  that  term  would  imply 
fifty  years  ago  in  the  “Old  Dominion” — numerous 
slaves,  the  F.  F.  V.  idea  of  domination  of  race,  and 
those  false  conceptions  of  right  begotten  of  “ chattel  ” 
ownership.  Though  naturally  possessed  of  many 
excellent  traits  of  character,  he  was  harsh  and  unre- 
lenting towards  those  who  sustained  to  him  the  re- 
lation of  property. 

On  the  little  stream  running  through  his  domain 
he  had  erected  a grist  mill  for  his  own  accommoda- 
tion and  the  profit  to  be  derived  therefrom  in  doing 
the  work  of  his  neighbors,  and  in  supplying  adja- 
cent towns  with  the  product  of  his  mill ; for  Solo- 
mon had  business  tact  and  push  far  beyond  his 
surroundings  and  time. 

The  business  of  distributing  his  merchandise  was 
entrusted  to  a mulatto  named  Sam,  who  traveled  far 
and  near  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  and  being  a 


HOW  SOL.  JONES  WAS  LEFT.  I2g 

shrewd,  intelligent  fellow,  was  enabled  to  pick  up 
much  valuable  information  relative  to  the  ways  of 
the  outside  world. 

The  estate  also  possessed  a blacksmith  in  the  per- 
son of  a stalwart  negro,  Peter,  who  rejoiced  in  no 
drop  of  Caucassian  blood.  The  wife  of  each  of  these 
men  was  respectively  the  sister  of  the  other,  but 
Dinah,  the  wife  of  Sam,  for  some  reason  history  has 
not  recorded,  was  a free  woman,  and  both  families 
were  childless.  This  fact  was  not  at  all  pleasing  to 
the  owner  of  the  plantation,  and  became  the  source 
of  much  annoyance  and  abuse  as  the  master  saw  less 
and  less  prospect  of  replenishing  his  coffers  from  the 
sale  or  labor  of  a second  generation. 

Stung  by  the  continued  upbraidings  and  base  ad- 
vances of  “ Old  Sol,”  as  Jones  ultimately  came  to  he 
called,  the  two  families  began  seriously  to  discuss 
the  propriety  of  emigrating  Northward.  The  knowl- 
edge picked  up  by  Sam  now  became  available.  He 
had  heard  much  in  his  journeyings  of  the  methods 
of  escape,  and  the  courses  pursued,  and  having  un- 
limited control  of  the  teams  about  the  mill  and  a 
general  acquaintance  for  miles  away  was,  conse- 
quently, deemed  the  proper  person  to  direct  the  es- 
cape. Acting  upon  his  advice  the  women  quietly 
laid  in  such  a stock  of  provisions  as  would  suffice 
them  for  several  days,  together  with  so  much  of 
clothing  as  was  deemed  indispensible.  Thus  equip- 
ped, one  Saturday  night,  in  July,  1843,  the  men 
saddled  two  of  the  best  horses  on  the  plantation  and 


126 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


with  their  wives  mounted  behind  them  set  out  and 
by  daylight  were  far  away  among  the  mountains  to 
the  northwestward.  A halt  was  made  for  the  day  in 
a secluded  ravine  where  some  pasturage  was  found, 
and  again  at  night  they  pushed  vigorously  on,  put- 
ting two  nights  of  fleet  travel  between  them  and  the 
plantation  before  their  flight  was  discovered,  as  the 
master  and  family  were  absent  and  none  other  had 
thought  of  inquiring  into  their  whereabouts. 

On  returning  to  his  home  on  Monday,  Mr.  Jones 
learned  of  the  absence  of  Peter  from  the  smithy,  Sam 
from  his  accustomed  duties  and  the  women  from  the 
cabins,  and  the  conviction  flashed  upon  him  that  he 
was  minus  three  valuable  pieces  of  property,  and 
when  the  disappearance  of  his  best  horses  was  ascer- 
tained, his  wrath  knew  no  bounds.  A plan  of  search 
was  instituted,  but  before  it  was  thoroughly  organ- 
ized, two  or  three  more  days  had  elapsed. 

Meanwhile,  the  fugitives  were  making  their  way 
rapidly  towards  the  Ohio  river  which  they  crossed 
with  little  difficulty  a short  distance  below  Wheeling, 
and  were  soon  threading  the  hill  country  of  South- 
eastern Ohio.  Arriving  in  Harrison  county  after  the 
lapse  of  some  twenty  days,  they  thought  they  might 
safely  betake  themselves  to  the  more  public  high- 
way and  to  daylight.  Here  was  their  mistake,  for  on 
the  first  day  of  this  public  exhibition  of  confidence, 
when  a few  miles  north  of  Cadiz,  they  looked  back 
and  a short  distance  in  the  rear  beheld  “ OP  Massa  ” 
and  two  or  three  men  in  pursuit.  They  betook 


HOW  SOL.  JONES  WAS  LEFT. 


127 


themselves  to  the  adjacent  woods  and  all  but  Sam 
succeeded  in  escaping.  He,  poor  fellow,  was  cap- 
tured and  lodged  in  jail  at  Cadiz  whilst  the  pursuit 
of  the  others  was  continued,  but  in  vain  ; for  avoid- 
ing every  human  habitation  and  moving  only  under 
cover  of  night  they  pushed  forward  and  reached  the 
home  of  a Mr.  Williams,  a Quaker,  residing  near 
Massillon,  where  Sam’s  wife  learned  of  his  capture, 
and  bidding  good-bye  to  the  others,  retraced  her 
foot-steps  slowly  to  her  Virginian  home,  expecting 
to  find  her  husband.  Not  so  however. 

II. 

Immediately  a portion  of  the  people  of  Cadiz 
found  a slave  had  been  incarcerated  in  the  jail  for 
safe  keeping,  whilst  the  master  was  in  search  of 
others,  they  sued  out  a writ  of  habeas  corpus , and  there 
being  none  to  appear  against  the  prisoner  or  show 
cause  why  he  should  not  be  released,  he  was  soon  set 
at  liberty  by  the  judge.  Grown  wiser  by  experience, 
he  betook  himself  to  the  cover  of  forests,  secluded 
pathways  and  darkness  and  all  trace  of  him  was 
soon  lost. 

After  a vain  search  for  the  others,  Mr.  Jones  re- 
turned to  Cadiz  only  to  find  that  the  official  cage  had 
been  opened  and  that  his  bird  was  flown.  His  im- 
precations upon  the  devoted  town  were  terrible,  but 
no  damage  was  done  farther  than  shocking  moral 
and  religious  sensibilities,  and  when  the  ebulitions 
of  his  wrath  had  somewhat  subsided  he  returned 


128 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


home,  where  in  a few  days  he  was  accosted  by  Sam’s 
faithful  Dinah,  whom  he  most  impiously  rebuffed 
when  she  inquired  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  her  hus- 
band. 


III. 

Infused  with  the  hope  of  making  a fortune  out  of 
the  Morus  morticaulus  speculation  which  spread  as 
a craze  over  the  country  during  the  later  years  of  the 
decade,  there  came  to  Massillon,  from  the  east,  in 
1837,  Cyrus  Ford,  a man  of  progressive  ideas,  who 
soon  associated  himself  with  the  Quakers  of  the 
neighborhood  in  acts  of  underground  philanthropy. 
His  hopes  with  regard  to  mulberry  riches  failed,  but 
his  fears  with  respect  to  the  ague  was  more  than  rea- 
lized, as  he  imbibed  the  dense  malarial  exhalations 
arising  from  the  Tuscarawas  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
shake  him  in  his  boots,  and  in  1841  he  abandoned  the 
valley  and  settled  himself  on  a purchase  east  of  what 
was  then  known  as  “ Doan’s  Corners,”  now  East 
Cleveland,  a short  distance  from  where  Adelbert  Col- 
lege stands.  For  years  he  resided  in  an  unpreten- 
tious house  situated  just  in  front  of  the  site  of  the 
present  hospitable  home  of  his  son,  Horace  Ford, 
Esq.,  Euclid  Avenue. 

One  September  morning,  in  1843,  young  Horace 
had  been  started  early  after  the  cows,  but  scarcely 
had  he  left  the  door  when,  in  the  early  dawn,  he 
was  hailed  from  the  roadside.  Approaching  the 
caller  he  found  standing  at  the  gateway  the  Williams 


HOW  SOL.  JONES  WAS  LEFT. 


129 


turn-out  from  Massillon,  and  on  the  box  the  old 
gentleman’s  son  Ed,  a young  man  about  his  own 
age. 

“ What’s  up,  Ed?”  said  young  Ford. 

“Not  much.  Don’t  thee  see  the  curtains  are 
down?”  was  the  reply. 

“ 0,  ah,  I see.” 

“ Not  exactly  thee  don’t,  for  them  curtains  are 
opeque,  but  there  are  two  persons  within  for  whom, 
as  we  believe,  search  is  now  being  made  in  town 
yonder.  Massillon  was  thoroughly  searched,  and  it 
was  not  until  last  evening  we  dared  to  start  out. 
Thee  and  thy  father  must  now  provide  for  the  poor 
beings  and  see  them  off  to  the  Queen’s  Dominion.” 

Without  further  ceremony  Peter  Jones  and  Mary, 
his  wife,  wrere  bidden  to  alight  and  in  a few  minutes 
were  safely  secreted  on  the  premises  of  Mr.  Ford. 

IV. 

On  Seneca  street,  in  that  early  day,  near  the  pres- 
ent site  of  the  criminal  court  rooms  stood  John  Bell’s 
barber-shop,  the  more  euphoneous  term,  “ tonsorial 
parlors,”  being  then  all  unknown.  John  was  a sterl- 
ing, wide  awake  darkie,  and  for  years  one  of  the 
principal  forwarding  agents  in  the  growing  city.  To 
him  during  the  day  young  Ford  applied  for  trans- 
portation for  the  arrival  of  the  morning,  but  was 
informed  that  matters  were  entirely  too  hot  to  under- 
take their  shipment  at  that  time,  but  that  he  should 
wait  until  the  third  evening  and  then  bring  them  in 


130 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


promptly  at  nine  o’clock  and  he  would  have  every- 
thing ready  for  their  transfer.  They  were  taken  into 
the  city  in  accordance  with  this  arrangement  and  in 
thirty  minutes  were  out  on  the  blue  waters  of  Erie 
duly  headed  for  Canada. 

Scarcely  three  weeks  had  elapsed  when  the  Wil- 
liam’s establishment  again  stood  at  the  gate  of  Mr. 
Ford,  this  time  having  brought  Sam  who  had  suc- 
ceeded after  weary  watchings  in  reaching  the  Quaker 
settlement  at  Massillon.  He  was  anxious  to  tarry 
and  wait  the  coming  of  his  wife,  who  he  thought 
could  be  duly  appraised  of  his  whereabouts  by  letter. 
To  this  end  he  gave  young  Horace  the  name  of  a 
friend  to  whom  he  could  safely  write  and  inform  her 
of  his  escape  from  jail  and  safe  arrival  at  the  lake. 
Dr.  Edwin  Cowles,  Jarvis  F.  Hanks  and  Cornelius 
Coakly  were  called  in  to  advise  in  the  matter  and  it 
was  unanimously  agreed  that  Sam  should  go  for- 
ward, and  if  his  wife  could  he  found  she  was  to  be 
sent  to  him  as  soon  as  possible.  In  accordance  with 
this  decision  Sam  went  to  Canada,  but  much  to  the 
surprise  of  Mr.  Ford  returned  in  about  three  weeks, 
almost  frantic  for  the  recovery  of  his  wife.  A second 
letter  wras  written,  advising  the  unktiown  friend  of 
Sam’s  whereabouts. 

Awaiting  an  answer,  Sam  went  to  work  for  Mr. 
Ford  chopping  upon  the  sloping  hillside  a short  dis- 
tance west  of  the  site  of  the  Garfield  Monument. 
He  had  been  engaged  thus  about  a month  when  the 
Williams  carriage  again  drove  up,  this  time  bringing 


HOW  SOL.  JONES  WAS  LEFT.  1 3 1 

Dinah,  whose  meeting  with  her  husband  was  of  a 
most  emotional  character,  manifested  in  shouts  and 
praises  and  thanksgiving  to  God,  and  choicest  bless- 
ings called  down  upon  the  head  of  Horace  whose 
second  epistle  had  reach  its  destination,  on  receipt  of 
which  she  had  immediately  set  out  on  her  long 
journey  to  join  him.  In  a day  or  two  the  twain 
were  forwarded  to  Canada.  Immediately  on  their 
departure,  the  junior  Ford  mailed  the  following: 

Cleveland,  O.,  Dec.  — , 1843 

Solomon  Jones , Esq. 

Dear  Sir: — I have  seen  your  chattels,  Pete,  Mary  and  Sam, 
safe  off  for  Canada.  If  I can  serve  you  any  farther,  I am  at 
your  command.  T ruly, ’ ’ 


CHAPTER  VI. 


EDWARD  HOWARD. 

I. 

ISAY,  Ed,  if  you  get  away  with  me,  it  will  have 
to  be  done  soon.” 

“ Yes,  Massa  Coppoc ; da’s  ’ginnin’  to  spishun  you 
right  smart.” 

“ I know  that,  Ed,  and  if  you  are  ready  to  strike 
for  freedom  to-night,  we  will  see  what  can  be  done. 
If  not,  I must  be  off.” 

“ Well,  Massa,  dis  chil’  am  ready.  Him  no  lan’ 
to  sell,  no  truck  to  ’spose  of,  no  wife  an’  chil’n  to 
’cupy  his  detention,  an’  he  ’queaths  his  ’sitiashun  to 
any  one  wat  wants  it.” 

“ Very  well,  Ed,  as  soon  as  all  is  quiet,  meet  me  at 
the  shed  in  your  Sunday  best ; and  now  be  off.” 

“ Suah,  sartin,  bof,  Massa  Coppoc.” 

The  above  conversation  took  place  about  twenty 
miles  back  from  Ohio  between  a young  Buckeye  who 
was  ostensibly  vending  some  kind  of  wares  among 
the  F.  F.  V’s.,  but  really  paving  the  way  to  that 
startling  episode  at  Harper’s  Ferry,  in  which  he,  a 
few  years  later,  played  so  conspicuous  a part ; and  a 
genuine  descendant  of  Ham,  after  the  real  Virginian 


EDWARD  HOWARD. 


133 


type,  quaint,  ungainly,  and  standing  about  six  feet 
six,  and  rejoicing  in  the  sobriquet,  Ed.  Howard. 

Coppoc  had  been  some  little  time  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  the  impression  began  to  prevail  that  his 
presence  boded  no  guaranty  of  the  retention  of  mov- 
avle  property.  This  his  shrewd  eye  had  perceived, 
and  his  resolve  to  rescue  Ed.  led  to  the  above  con- 
versation, the  conclusion  of  a series  that  had  tran- 
spired between  them. 

II. 

Eleven  o’clock  came,  and  with  it  a black  cloud , 
which  completely  cut  off  all  sight  of  the  twinkling 
stars  from  a man  who  stood  pensively  listening,  be- 
neath an  old  shed  that  stood  back  on  the  plantation, 
and  from  the  cloud,  “ a still  small  voice  saying:”  “Is 
you  heah,  Massa  Coppoc?  ” 

“ Here,  Ed.,  and  now  follow  me  without  a word,” 
saying  which  he  led  the  way  to  a pasture  field  where 
two  fleet  horses  were  soon  bridled  and  saddled,  and 
the  two  men  rode  deliberately  away.  Once  out  of  the 
neighborhood  their  speed  was  quickened,  and  long 
before  daybreak  the  horses  were  turned  loose  a short 
distance  out  from  Wheeling.  Entering  the  city  they 
proceeded  directly  to  the  wharf,  where  a boat  was 
found  just  leaving  for  Pittsburgh.  On  this  they  took 
passage,  as  master  and  servant,  for  Wellsville. 

Once  in  the  latter  place,  Ed.  was  consigned  to  the 
shipping  department  of  the  Road , and  young  Cop- 
poc hastened  to  his  home,  near  Salem,  conscious  that 


134 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


confusion  would  likely  follow  as  a result  of  last 
night’s  ride. 

III. 

Daylight  crept  slowly  over  the  Virginian  hills,  and 
when  it  was  ascertained  that  Ed.  and  the  two  best 
horses  were  gone,  there  was  a commotion  indeed. 
A rally  was  at  once  made,  and  dogs  and  men  put 
upon  the  track,  and  about  noon  the  horses  were 
found  near  where  they  had  been  turned  loose,  but 
no  trace  of  the  fugitives  could  be  obtained  for  some 
little  time,  owing  to  the  hour  in  which  they  took  the 
boat,  but  at  length  some  one  reported  having  seen 
two  such  persons  take  the  night  packet  up  the  river. 
Taking  advantage  of  the  first  steamer  up,  Ed’s  mas- 
ter hastened  to  Pittsburgh,  where  he  learned  of  the 
debarkation  of  his  property , and  returned  to  Wells- 
ville  on  the  first  boat. 

In  the  meantime  there  had  come  down  from  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  Salem,  a Mr.  Pennock,  a black- 
smith, the  owner  of  a small  farm.  Going  to  the 
river  town  several  times  in  the  year  for  his  supplies, 
Mr.  Pennock  had  fitted  a long  close  box,  opening  in  the 
rear,  to  his  “ running  gears  ” and  in  this  the  bars  of 
iron  were  thrust,  frequently  of  such  length  as  to  pro- 
ject several  feet. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  the  day  after  Ed.  was 
left  in  Wellsville,  Mr.  Pennock  went  in  for  a supply 
of  iron.  When  he  had  made  his  purchase  and  was 
about  to  return  to  his  hotel,  the  dealer,  who  like  Mr. 


EDWARD  HOWARD. 


135 


Pennock,  was  an  underground  man,  said,  “ See  here. 
Pennock,  I’ve  a soft  bar  about  six  feet  and  a half 
long,  I’d  like  to  send  up  to  Bonsall.” 

“ How  much  does  it  weigh  ? ” 

“About  one  sixty,  I’d  judge.” 

“That  will  make  me  a deal  of  a load,  besides  I 
don’t  see  how  it  can  be  done.” 

“ You  can  leave  that  to  me.” 

“ Where  is  it;  I’d  like  to  see  how  it  looks.” 

“ No,  that  will  not  do.  It  is  in  Excelsior  Station 
and  the  probabilities  are  there  will  be  vigorous  efforts 
made  to  recapture  it,  so  you  must  ‘ eyes  off.’  If  you 
undertake  the  carrying  I will  see  to  the  rest.” 

“ All  right.” 

That  night  there  was  made  a little  readjustment  of 
the  wagon  box,  some  hay  and  a blanket  were  placed 
on  top  of  the  projecting  bars  and  there,  extended  at 
full  length,  was  the  form  of  Edward  Howard,  when 
in  the  early  morning  Mr.  Pennock  was  ready  to  de- 
part. 

Meanwhile  his  master  had  procured  from  a Vir- 
ginia friend,  a couple  of  good  horses  and  himself  as 
an  assistant,  and  entered  Wellsville  on  the  morning 
of  Mr.  Pennock ’s  departure.  After  a half  day’s  fruit- 
less search  with  the  aid  of  an  officer,  they  became 
satisfied  that  the  object  of  their  regard  had  been  for- 
warded, so  they  took  the  road  north.  Overtaking 
the  old  blacksmith  with  his  iron  rattling  along,  they 
enquired,  “Have  you  seen  any  nigger  along  the 
road?” 


136 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“ What  kind  of  a one  was  he?  ” 

“ Why  a black  one  with  a wholly  head,  tall  and 
slim  like  a d — d yankee  bean  pole.” 

“ Well,  gentlemen,  I haven’t  seen  no  such  a one, 
indeed  I have  seen  none  at  all.” 

“Well,  have  you  heard  of  any?  ” 

“ I’ve  not  heard  the  word  nigger  since  I left  home, 
two  days  ago,  until  now.” 

“ Where  are  you  from  ? ” 

“ Salem,  and  like  enough  you’ll  find  him  there, 
for  they  say  them  Bonsalls  keeps  a power  of  run- 
aways.” 

“ Well,  we’re  going  up  to  see.  Good  day,  sir.” 

“ Good  day,  gentleman,”  and  each  party  pursued 
its  way. 

That  night  Pennock  stayed  at  the  “Old  Buckeye 
House,”  New  Lisbon,  the  wagon  was  run  into  the 
barn,  and  at  a proper  hour  the  “ soft  bar  ” was  taken 
out  and  placed  in  the  hay-mow,  “ to  prevent  rust,”  as 
the  blacksmith  facetiously  remarked  to  his  friend 
Boniface.  The  next  day  on  arriving  home,  he 
learned  his  interlocutors  had  preceded  him  some 
hours,  and  were  registered  at  one  of  the  taverns  as 
cattle  buyers  or  drovers  rather,  where  young  Coppoc 
had  caught  a glimpse  of  them,  and  informed  his 
friends  of  their  real  character. 

On  the  morrow  the  pseudo  dealers  called  on  a 
neighboring  farmer  and  desired  to  be  introduced 
among  the  best  stock  raisers  of  the  vicinity. 

“ Thee  had  better  be  leaving  these  parts, gentlemen,” 


EDWARD  HOWARD. 


137 


said  the  honest  Quaker,  to  whom  the  appeal 
was  made.  “If  thee  knows  when  thee  is  well  off, 
for  thy  errand  is  understood,  and  thee  will  have  the 
Coppocs  and  the  Bonsalls  down  on  thee  in  an  hour, 
and  I could  not  assure  thy  lives  for  a moment  when 
they  come.” 

There  was  no  parly,  but  two  horses  were  headed 
southward,  and  none  too  soon,  for  in  a short  time 
half  a dozen  young  men  armed  to  the  teeth,  rode  up 
and  inquired  for  the  strangers.  When  informed  of 
their  departure  they  started  in  pursuit.  Then  be- 
gan one  of  the  most  exciting  races  ever  witnessed  in 
Columbian  county.  The  pursued  had  smelled  mis- 
chief in  the  air,  and  away  they  flew,  and  after  them 
the  pursuers,  dashing  over  hill  and  across  valley, 
occasionally  catching  glimpses  of  each  other,  until 
the  whole  distance  to  the  Ohio  was  passed.  Reach- 
ing Gardiner’s  Ferry,  at  East  Liverpool,  the  South- 
erners put  their  jaded  horses  aboard  the  boat  and 
were  soon  on  the  sacred  soil  of  Virginia.  When 
Gardiner  returned  the  other  party  was  in  waiting,  but 
reluctantly  took  his  advice  to  remain  on  the  soil  of 
their  native  state. 


IV. 

All  apprehension  of  immediate  danger  removed, 
Ed.,  who,  by  the  advice  ol  Coppoc,  assumed  the 
name  “ Sam,”  remained  quietly  at  Mr.  Pennock’s  for 
some  time,  in  fact,  made  it  his  headquarters  for  the 
winter,  working  for  his  board  and  doing  odd  jobs, 


138  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

from  the  proceeds  of  which  he  purchased  some 
clothes  and  a long  smooth-bore  rifle,  of  which  he 
was  passionately  fond,  and  with  which  he  practiced 
much,  often  repeating,  “ I shall  put  a hole  through 
the  man  suah,  who  comes  to  claim  that  ’wa’d,”  for 
the  whole  region  from  the  river  to  the  lake  had  been 
flooded  with  bills  minutely  describing  him  and 
offering  $500  for  his  apprehension. 

When  spring  fairly  opened  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  seek  the  Queen’s  Dominion  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
and  accordingly  packed  his  few  effects  in  a bandana, 
threw  “ ’Tection,”  as  he  called  his  smooth-bore, 
across  his  shoulder,  and  proceeded  cautiously  north- 
ward. 

Arriving  at  Warren,  he  sought  the  home  of  a 
colored  family  that  had  been  pointed  out  to  him  as 
a safe  retreat.  Approaching  the  door,  he  heard  a 
number  of  voices,  which  he  recognized  by  the  melody 
as  being  of  his  kind,  singing  with  great  gusto  : 

“ Matthew’s  saint 
Without  putty  or  paint,  . 

And  Joel’s  a prophet,  we  know  it ; 

Whatever  they  say 
Don’t  refuse  to  obey, 

But  shut  up  your  eyes  and  go  it,” 

words  perpetrated  by  one  John  Morley  on  two  dis- 
tinguished local  politicians  of  the  Democratic  per- 
suasion of  the  period  of  ’56,  and  very  popular  as 
part  of  a campaign  song. 

Fully  assured  by  tbe  style  of  the  singing,  Sam,  the 


EDWARD  HOWARD. 


139 


only  name  he  now  recognized,  made  his  presence 
known  and  was  cordially  received  by  the  colored 
brethren  present,  among  them  the  distmguished 
tonsorial  artist,  Prof.  A.  L.  0.  Day,  and  Benjamin  F. 
Scott,  familiarly  known  as  “ Old  Ben,”  a darkey 
whose  cupidity  and  avarice  knew  no  bounds.  Rec- 
ognizing in  Sam,  as  he  believed,  the  Edward  Howard 
of  the  handbill,  he  began  planning  for  the  reward. 

Ascertaining  what  was  up,  Dr.  D.  B.  Woods  and 
Postmaster  Webb,  two  sterling  Democrats,  got  pos- 
session of  Sam  and  took  him  to  a by-road  about  two 
miles  out  of  town,  where  they  enjoined  him  to  keep 
away  from  the  more  public  highways  and  proceed 
about  twenty  miles  north  where  he  would  find  a 
colored  man  named  Jenkins,  in  whom  he  could  rely. 

Whilst  the  doctor  and  his  friend  were  thus 
humanely  engaged,  the  colored  brethren  of  Warren 
took  Old  Ebony  out  of  town  and  so  severely  flogged 
him  that  his  back  prasented  the  appearance  of  a 
genuine  plantation  administration.  Determined  to 
realize  something  for  his  time  and  pains,  the  old  sin- 
ner proceeded  to  the  northern  part  of  the  county 
and  palmed  himself  off  as  a genuine  fugitive,  and  so 
adroitely  did  he  play  the  role  as  to  secure  twelve  or 
fifteen  dollars  before  the  counterfeit  was  detected. 

As  for  Sam,  he  took  the  advice  of  his  Democratic 
deliverers,  and  in  due  time  found  himself  under  the 
hospitable  roof  of  “ Nigger  ” Jenkins,  as  he  was  more 
commonly  called,  residing  in  the  township  of  Meso- 
potania,  and  by  him  was  forwarded  to  the  home  of 
Joseph  Tinan,  near  the  centre  of  Rome. 


140 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“ Uncle  Joe  ” was  a famous  agent  in  his  day. 
Tall  and  imposing  in  appearance,  and  of  more  than 
ordinary  intelligence,  he  commanded  universal  re- 
spect, and  so  pronounced  were  his  opinions  on  the 
curse  of  slavery  that  his  home  had  long  been  recog- 
nized as  “ Old  Reliable  Station.”  By  him  Sam  was 
cordially  received,  and  his  arm  carefully  inspected. 
Then  the  old  gentleman  would  have  Sam  make  an 
exhibition  of  his  skill  as  a marksman.  So  well  did 
the  efforts  of  his  temporary  ward  please  him,  that 
Uncle  Joe  was  constrained  to  show  him  the  armory 
of  the  “ Black  String  Band,”  an  organization  that 
had  then  but  recently  sprung  into  existence  and  hav- 
ing for  its  more  immediate  object  the  protection  of 
John  Brown,  should  his  arrest  be  attempted.  The 
distinctive  badge  of  this  band  was  a small  black  cord, 
used  instead  of  a button  in  fastening  the  shirt  collar. 
Hence  the  name. 

The  sight  of  the  glittering  barrels  made  Sam’s 
eyes  fairly  dance  with  delight,  and  he  exclaimed, 
“Masea  Coppoc  say  thay’s  gwine  to  he  wah  an’  de 
cullud  pussons  will  all  be  free.” 

“ 0 no,  Sam,  there’s  going  to  be  no  war.  These 
guns  are  for  another  purpose.” 

Little  did  Uncle  Joe,  well  as  he  was  posted,  know 
of  the  ultimate  plans  of  Old  Ossawattomie.  His 
dusky  visitor  was  even  a little  in  advance  of  him 
with  regard  to  what  was  already  fomenting  in  Dixie. 

In  the  northwest  part  of  Andover,  Ohio,  resides  an 
old  patriarch,  Jehaziel  Carpenter,  familiarly  known 


EDWARD  HOWARD.  141 

as  “ the  Deacon,”  now  numbering  his  over  ninety 
summers.  For  over  sixty  years  he  has  tenanted  on 
the  same  farm,  and  his  home  has  ever  been  one  of 
the  broadest  hospitality,  and  to  none  more  so  than 
to  the  panting  fugitive.  Just  a little  way  off  stands 
the  rather  tall,  old-fashioned  country  house  of  his 
former  neighbor,  Garlic,  whose  language  never  be- 
trayed the  fact  that  he  had  any  official  church  rela- 
tion. In  fact  we  think  his  name,  significant  as  it 
was,  had  no  place  on  the  muster  roll  of  the  church 
militant,  and  yet  he  was  game  in  many  a hard  fight 
for  truth  and  righteousness. 

V. 

Cleveland  and  vicinity  was  flooded  with  circulars, 
advertising  a man,  wife  and  child,  who  had  been 
traced  to  that  city,  and  offering  a large  reward  for 
their  delivery  to  the  reputed  owner.  Friend  and  foe 
were  alike  on  the  lookout.  Efforts  were  making  by 
the  one  to  secure  them  a passage  across  the  lake, 
whilst  the  other  was  as  assidiously  watching  every 
vessel  to  prevent  their  escape. 

Thus  matters  stood  when  the  man,  Martin  by 
name,  looking  out  of  an  upper  window,  espied  his 
master  among  the  passers  by  on  Water  street.  This 
being  communicated  to  those  who  had  them  in 
charge,  it  was  at  once  determined  the  family  should 
not  be  shipped  by  lake. 

That  night,  when  all  was  quiet  and  still,  a close  car- 
riage passed  out  Pittsburgh  street,  and  before  daylight 


I 42 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


Martin  and  his  wife  were  in  safe  quarters  near 
Chagrin  Falls.  Thence  they  were  taken  the  next 
night  to  the  home  of  Mr.  Cook,  in  Middlefield,  and 
as  rapidly  transmitted  by  him  to  a pious  old  dea- 
con’s in  Gustavus. 

VI. 

Night  had  settled  down  over  village  and  farm 
house;  Deacon  Jehaziel’s  evening  prayers  had  been 
said  and  he  was  quietly  dreaming  of  the  time 
“ When  you  and  I were  young,  Maggie,” 
and  Garlic,  just  returned  from  Jefferson,  had  turned 
his  horse  into  the  pasture,  when  up  to  the  door  of 
each  came  a vehicle.  Garlic  at  once  recognized  the 
horse  of  the  old  Baptist  Boanerges,  Tinan,  from 
Rome,  whilst  the  deacon  was  aroused  by  the  quieter 
voice  of  his  Congregational  brother  from  Gustavus. 
What  transpired  from  this  time  until  the  city  of  Erie 
was  reached  is  buried  in  the  tombs  of  Garlic,  a Hay- 
ward, a Gould  and  a Drury. 

VII. 

In  the  township  of  Harbor  Creek,  Pa.,  east  of  the 
city  of  Erie,  and  a short  distance  out  of  Wesley ville, 
was  the  farm  house  of  Frank  Henry,  a man  of 
medium  size,  black  hair,  eyes  of  the  same  hue  and 
sparkling  like  diamonds,  nervous  temperament, 
quick,  wiry  and  the  soul  of  honor  and  generosity. 
For  a young  man  he  was  one  of  the  best  knowrn  and 
most  efficient  conductor-agents  in  Western  Pennsyl- 
vania. About  mid-summer,  1858,  he  received  the 
following  note: — 


EDWARD  HOWARD. 


H3 


Erie,  Pa.,  51,  7,  5881. 

Dear  Frank: 

The  mirage  lifts  Long  Point  into  view.  Oooo.  Come  up 
and.  see  the  beautiful  sight.  I can’t  promise  a view  to- 
morrow. Truly, 

Jehiel  Towner. 

That  evening  found  Mr.  Henry  early  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Mr.  Towner,  inquiring  diligently  as  to  the 
great  natural  phenomenon  which  had  brought  the 
land  of  the  Canucks  so  distinctly  to  view. 

“ Yes,  yes,  it  became  visible  last  night  about 
twelve  o’clock,  when  Drury’s  team  came  in  from 
Girard  bearing  three  fugitives.  They  are  down  in  the 
“ Retreat  Himrod,”  and  must  be  put  across  the  lake 
in  the  shortest  and  safest  possible  manner,  for  parties 
in  town  are  on  the  lookout  for  them,  as  all  are 
liberally  advertised.  I believe  you  are  just  the  man 
to  undertake  the  transportation.  Will  you  do  it?” 

“ Are  they  to  go  from  the  ‘Retreat,’  as  usual?  ” 

“ Not  as  usual.  So  close  a watch  is  kept  for  them 
that  it  is  thought  best  to  send  them  off  and  have 
them  shipped  from  some  point  along  the  beach.” 

“ There’s  a big  risk,  Towner.” 

‘•Yes,  a chance  to  pay  a thousand  dollars  and  see 
the  inside  of  the  ‘ Western  ’ without  charge.  But 
you  know  you  are  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  run- 
away niggers.  I will  just  send  you  some  ‘ passen- 
gers’ to  forward.  Shall  they  be  sent?  ” 

“ I shrink  from  no  humanitarian  work.  Let  them 


come. 


144 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


A few  preliminaries  were  settled  and  the  parties 
separated.  The  next  night  Hamilton  Waters,  a 
nearly  blind  mulatto,  long  a resident  of  Erie,  guided 
by  a little  boy,  drove  into  Mi.  Henry’s  yard  and  un- 
loaded a cargo  which  the  receiver  thus  describes: 

“ The  old  man  brought  me  three  of  the  strangest 
looking  passengers  you  ever  saw.  I can,  to-day. 
remember  how  oddly  they  looked  as  they  clambered 
out  of  the  wagon.  There  was  a man  they  called  Sam, 
a great  strapping  fellow,  something  over  thirty  years 
old,  I should  say.  He  was  loose  jointed,  with  a 
head  like  a pumpkin  and  a mouth  like  a cavern,  its 
vast  circumference  always  stretched  in  a glorious 
grin;  for  no  matter  how  bad  Sam  might  feel,  the 
grin  had  so  grown  into  his  black  face  that  it  never 
vanished.  I remember  how,  a few  nights  after,  when 
the  poor  fellow  was  scared  just  about  out  of  his  wits, 
that  his  grin,  though  a little  ghastly,  was  as  broad  as 
ever.  Sam  was  one  of  the  queerest  characters  I ever 
met.  His  long  arms  seemed  like  wrists,  his  long 
legs  all  ankles;  and  when  he  walked  his  nether  limbs 
had  a flail-like  flop  that  made  him  look  like  a run- 
away windmill.  The  bases  upon  which  rested  this 
fearfully  and  wonderfully  made  superstructure  were 
abundantly  ample.  Unlike  the  forlorn  hope  who 
‘ One  stocking  on  one  foot  he  had, 

The  other  on  a shoe,’ 

he  on  one  foot  wore  an  old  shoe — at  least  a number 
twelve — and  on  the  other  an  enormously  heavy  boot, 
and  his  trouser-legs,  by  a grim  fatility,  were  similarly 


EDWARD  HOWARD. 


145 


unbalanced,  for  while  the  one  was  tucked  in  the 
boot-top,  its  fellow,  from  knee  down,  had  wholly 
vanished.  Sam  wore  a weather-beaten  and  brimless 
1 tile  ’ on  his  head,  and  carried  an  old-fashioned, 
long-barrelled  rifle.  He  set  great  store  by  his  ‘ ole 
smooth  bo’,’  though  he  handled  it  in  a gingerly  kind 
of  a way  that  suggested  a greater  fear  of  its  kicks 
than  confidence  in  its  aim. 

Sam’s  companions  were  an  intelligent-looking 
negro  about  twenty-five,  named  Martin,  and  his 
wife,  a pretty  quadroon  girl  with  thin  lips  and  a 
pleasant  voice,  for  all  the  world  like  Eliza  in  Uncle 
Tom’s  Cabin.  She  carried  a plump  little  picanniny 
on  her  breast,  over  which  a shawl  was  slightly 
drawn.  She  was  an  uncommonly  attractive  young 
woman,  and  I made  up  my  mind  then  and  there 
that  she  shouldn’t  be  carried  back  to  slavery  if  I 
could  help  it. 

As  there  was  close  pursuit,  station  “ Sanctum 
Sanctorum  ” was  again  called  into  requisition,  though 
as  it  was  summer,  no  draft  was  made  on  the  church 
wood-pile.  Here  they  were  kept  for  several  days, 
none  knowing  of  their  whereabouts  except  two  inti- 
mate friends  of  Mr.  Henry,  wThose  house  being  under 
nightly  espionage  necessitated  their  assistance. 

Through  Wesley ville  runs  a little  stream,  Four- 
mile  Creek,  to  the  lake,  and  nearly  parallel  to  it  a 
public  highway.  From  the  mouth  of  this  creek  it 
was  proposed  to  ship  the  fugitives  to  Long  Point, 
Canada,  a distance  of  some  thirty-five  or  forty  miles, 


146 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


but  for  some  days  the  wind  was  unfavorable.  At 
length  one  dark  and  stormy  night  Mr.  Henry  re- 
ceived notice  that  the  wind  was  favorable  and  a boat 
in  readiness. 

What  was  to  be  done?  It  would  not  do  for  him 
to  take  anything  from  his  house,  that  would  excite 
suspicion;  the  same  would  be  true  if  he  went  to  the 
houses  of  his  friends.  Bethinking  himself  of  an 
honest  Jacksonian  Democrat,  a man  with  a generous 
heart,  residing  about  half  way  down  to  the  lake,  he 
decided  to  take  a venture.  Proceeding  to  the  old 
church  he  formed  the  little  party  in  single  file  and 
marched  them  through  the  rain  to  the  door  of  this 
man,  familiarly  known  as  “ General ” Kilpatrick,  a 
man  of  giant  proportions,  and  afterwards  sheriff  of 
Erie  county. 

Rap,  rap,  rap,  went  the  knuckels  of  the  leader 
against  the  door,  which  soon  stood  wide  ajar,  reveal- 
ing the  proprietor  with  a thousand  interrogation 
points  freezing  into  his  face  that  July  night,  as  he 
paused  for  a moment,  one  hand  holding  aloft  a can- 
dle whilst  the  other  shaded  his  eyes  as  he  peered  out 
upon  the  wet  and  shivering  crowd  gathered  about 
his  doorway,  the  very  picture  of  dumfounded  as- 
tonishment. The  situation  was  soon  grasped ; he 
hustled  the  party  into  the  house,  gave  the  door  a 
significant  slam  and  in  a pious  air  that  would  have 
startled  even  Peter  Cartwright,  exclaimed,  “ Henry, 
what  in  hell  does  this  mean  ? ” 

“ It  means,”  General,  replied  Mr.  Henry,  “ these 


EDWARD  HOWARD. 


147 


are  a party  of  fugitives  from  slavery  I am  about 
sending  to  Canada ; they  are  destitute,  as  you  can 
see,  and  closely  pursued  ; their  only  crime  is  a desire 
for  freedom;  that  young  woman  and  mother  has 
been  sold  from  her  husband  and  child  to  a dealer  in 
the  far  South  for  the  vilest  of  purposes,  and  if  recap- 
tured will  be  consigned  to  a life  of  shame.” 

Meanwhile  the  woman’s  eyes  were  pleading  elo- 
quently, whilst  a dubious  grin  overspread  the  entire 
of  Sam’s  ebony  phiz,  and  the  host  looked  assumedly 
fierce  and  angry  as  he  retorted  “ Well,  what  the  d — 1 
do  you  want  of  me  ? ” 

“ Clothing  and  provisions.” 

“You  do,  do  you?”  came  back  in  tones  even 
gruffer  than  before.  “ See  here  you  darkies,  this  is  a 
bad  job.  Canada  is  full  of  runaway  niggers  already. 
They’re  a-freezin’  and  a-starvin’  by  thousands.  Why, 
I was  over  there  t’other  day,  and  saw  six  niggers 
dead  by  the  roadside.  More’n  forty  were  strung  up 
in  the  trees  with  the  crows  feedin'  on  their  black 
carcasses,”  and  turning  to  Sam,  “ You  better  go  back, 
d’ye  hear  / They’ll  make  your  black  hide  into  razor 
strops  ’nless  than  a week.  I paid  a dollar  for  one 
made  from  a black  nigger.  They’re  sending  hun- 
dreds of  them  across  the  sea  every  week.” 

During  this  harangue,  Sam  was  shaking  in  his 
footgear  and  his  eyes  rolled  widely  on  the  back- 
ground of  that  inexpressible  grin.  His  fingers 
clutched  convulsively  his  shooting-iron,  and  he  evi- 
dently didn’t  know  which  to  do,  turn  it  upon  his 


148 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


Democratic  entertainer  or  keep  his  “ powder  dry  ” 
for  Canuck  crows.  The  woman  caught,  through 
this  assumed  roughness,  the  inner  heart  of  the  man, 
and  though  she  shuddered  at  the  pictures  drawn, 
and  the  possibilities  of  a grave  in  the  lake,  yet  she 
preferred  that,  or  even  to  he  food  for  the  vultures  of 
Canada,  to  return  to  an  ignominious  servitude. 

Then  came  a strange  medley:  Blanket  and  hood 
— “there,  the  huzzy” — a basket  of  provisions  — 
“ d — m me  if  I’ll  ever  help  a set  of  runaway  niggers, 
no  sir,  it’s  agin  my  religion” — off  came  his  own  coat 
and  was  hurled  at  the  astonished  Sam  with,  “ There 
you  black  imp,  you’ll  find  ’em  on  the  Pint  waitin’ 
for  ye ; they’ll  catch  ye  and  kill  ye  and  skin  yer  car- 
cass for  a scare-crow  and  take  yer  hide  for  a drum 
head,  and  play  ‘ God  save  the  Queen  ’ -with  your 
bones.  Yes,  sir,  I shall  see  them  long  shanks  con- 
verted into  drum-sticks  the  next  time  I go  over.” 

All  else  being  done,  he  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets  and  drawing  thence  a quantity  of  change  be- 
stowed it  upon  the  woman,  exclaiming,  “There,  take 
that;  it  will  help  bury  the  baby,  if  you  will  go. 
Better  go  back,  you  huzzy ; better  go  back.” 

Everything  ready,  the  party  was  shoved  out,  hut 
as  he  passed  over  the  threshold,  Sam’s  tongue  ivas 
loosened,  and  with  the  smile  all  the  time  deepening, 
and  the  great  tears  rolling  down  his  sable  cheeks,  he 
broke  forth' 

“ Look  ’e  hyar,  Massa,  you’s  good  to  we  uns,  an’ 
fo’  de  Lo’d  I tank  you.  Ef  enny  No’then  gemmen 


EDWARD  HOWARD. 


149 


hankah  fur  my  chances  in  the  Souf  I’zins  in  favor 
ob  de  same.  For  de  good  Lo’d,  I tank  you,  I do 
suahP 

“ Hist,  you  black  rascal.”  said  the  man  in  the 
doorway,  “ And  see  here,  Henry,  remember  you 
never  were  at  my  house  with  a lot  of  damned  niggers 
in  the  night.  Do  you  understand?  ” 

“ All  right,  sir.  No  man  will  ever  charge  you 
with  abolitionism.  If  he  does,  call  on  me.  I can 
swear  you  denounce  it  in  most  unmeasured  terms.” 

The  rain  had  now  ceased;  the  stars  were  out  and 
the  party  trudged  rapidly  down  to  the  lake,  caring 
little  for  the  mud  and  wet.  The  boat  was  found  in 
waiting,  and  Martin  and  his  wife  had  just  waded  out 
to  it  when  Henry  and  Sam,  standing  on  the  shore, 
had  their  attention  attracted  by  a noise,  as  the  crush- 
ing of  a fence-board,  and  looking  to  the  westward 
they  saw  a man  sliding  down  the  bank  into  the 
shadow.  Old  “ ’tection  ” was  immediately  brought 
to  aim,  so  exact  that  had  Henry  not  struck  the  barrel 
upward  just  as  the  trigger  was  pulled,  sending  the 
ball  whistling  in  the  air,  there  could  not  have  failed 
a subject  for  a “first-class  funeral.”  The  sneak  took 
to  his  heels,  Sam  took  to  the  boat,  and  Henry  stood 
long  upon  the  shore  peering  into  the  darkness, 
catching  the  rich,  mellow  tones  of  Mrs.  Martin’s  voice 
as  she  warbled  forth  in  real  negro  minstrelsy,  inter- 
rupted by  an  occasional  “ ’lujah  ” from  Sam  as  the 
boat  receded, 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


150 


“ There  is  a railrod  undergroun’ 

On  which  de  negroes  lope, 

An’  when  dey  gets  dare  ticket 
Dare  hearts  is  full  ob  hope  ; 

De  engine  nebber  whistles 
An’  de  cars  dey  make  no  noise, 

But  dey  carry  off  de  darkies, 

Dare  wives,  an’  girls,  an’  boys.” 

Returning  homeward,  Mr.  Henry  traced  the  hu- 
man sleuth-hound  by  his  footsteps  in  the  mud,  the 
nibbling  of  his  horses  where  they  had  been  left,  and 
the  marks  of  his  carriage  wheels  at  Wesleyville 
where  they  turned  toward  Erie,  and  were  lost  in  the 
new  made  tracks  of  the  early  morning  marketers. 

VIII. 

Time  passed ; the  years  of  the  war  came  and  went ; 
peace  smiled  upon  the  country;  John  Brown  and 
young  Coppoc  slept  beneath  sodded  mounds,  whilst 
the  soul  of  the  former  went  “ marching  on,”  and  the 
genial,  generous  Henry  was  keeping  the  lighthouse 
on  the  eastern  extremity  of  Presque  Isle,  at  the  en- 
trance of  Erie  harbor  or  bay.  Going  over  to  the  city 
one  day  he  received  a letter  bearing  the  Dominion 
post  mark.  It  was  without  date,  and  with  some 
difficulty  he  deciphered  the  following : 

Dere  Ser,  Mistur  Henri : 

I’ze  glad  ter  bee  abul  to  rite  ye.  I’ze  dun  wel  sens  dat 
nite.  I’ze  got  a wife  an’  chilin’.  De  lor  sen  me  into  de  ile 
kentry  bress  him  and  Sam  make  sum  muni.  I sen  to  yer  a 


EDWARD  HOWARD. 


151 

draf  for  100  dollars  gib  fift  to  de  men  in  de  bote  an’  kepe  50 
fo’  buks  fo’  you  one  selfe  tel  de  kros  man  Sam  feah  no  kro 
’oz  no  razr  strap,  tank  de  lor. 

Your  lubbin  fren  Sam, 

wo  wuz  Edwud  Howud. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


PLUCKY  CHARLEY. 

I. 

HA’LEY,  I say  Cha’ley,  a’  my  chil’ns  gone 


’cept  you,  and  Massa’s  done  gone  an’  sol’ 
you,  and  I’ll  nebber  see  you  ’gin  in  a’  dis  bressed 
wu’l’,  nebber ! nebber ! ” 

‘‘  Guess  not,  mudder ; ol’  Massa  promised  you 
when  he  put  de  udders  in  de  coffle  to  keep  me 


alius.” 


“Yes,  Cha’ley,  dat  am  so,  but  dis  bery  mornin’  I 
hear  ’im  tell  dat  unspec’ble  trader  he’ll  sen’  you  to 
him  Monday  mornin’  shu’ah,  an’  dat  he  mus’  put 
yer  in  jail  till  he  start  de  drove  fur  down  de  riber. 
May  de  Lor’  help  yer  my  chil’  when  yer  ol’  mudder’s 
ha’t  am  clean  broke.” 

“ De  Lor’  help  you,  mudder ; dis  chil’  help  hisself, 
so  jus’  gib  me  my  dinnah,  mudder,  fo’  I mus  go  to 
de  fiel’  to  do  Massa’s  arran’  to  de  boss.” 

Had  the  ear  of  the  reader  been  present  in  the  little 
back  kitchen  of  a fine  plantation  residence  in  Loudon 
county,  Virginia,  in  the  autumn  of  1855,  the  above 
conversation  might  have  been  heard  between  a 
colored  woman  rather  past  middle  life  and  her  son, 
an  athletic  young  man  of  about  twenty  years  of  age, 


PLUCKY  CHARLEY. 


153 


as  they  conYersed  in  low  tones.  The  woman  had 
long  been  the  cook  in  the  family  and  had  lived  to 
see  her  husband  and  all  her  children  except  Charley, 
the  youngest,  sold  for  the  southern  market,  joined  in 
the  coffle  like  so  many  beasts  and  driven  away. 

To  alleviate  her  agony,  she  had  been  promised  that 
Charley  should  ever  remain  with  her,  and  resting  in 
this  promise  she  had  toiled  unrepiningly  on,  whilst 
the  growing  lad  had  been  kept  as  a kind  of  boy-of- 
all  chores  about  the  house,  going  occasionally,  as  a 
kind  of  body  servant  with  his  master  to  Washington, 
Baltimore  and  Wheeling,  thus  being  enabled,  by 
close  observation,  to  pick  up  a little  general  knowl- 
edge. 

Thus  things  nad  passed  until  the  morning  of  the 
day  in  question,  when  she  accidently  overheard  the 
sale  of  the  boy,  and  with  an  aching  heart  communi- 
cated the  news  to  him  as  he  came  to  the  kitchen  as 
usual  for  his  dinner.  How  earnestly  her  mother’s 
heart  may  have  prayed  that  the  Lord  would  open  up 
a way  of  escape  for  her  darling  boy  no  one  can  tell, 
neither  does  it  matter,  for  no  sooner  was  the  fact  of 
the  sale  communicated  to  him  than  the  mental  re- 
solve of  the  youth  was  taken  to  effect  an  escape. 

The  frugal  dinner  was  dispatched  in  silence,  the 
mission  to  the  field  duly  executed  and  a prompt  re- 
turn thereof  made,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
master. 


154 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


II. 

Night,  sable  goddess,  had  spread  her  curtain  over 
earth,  and  the  valleys  amid  the  Alleghenies  were 
sleeping  in  quiet,  when  Charley,  crawling  from  his 
couch,  so  stealthily,  indeed,  as  not  to  disturb  the 
early  slumbers  of  his  mother,  crept  softly  to  the 
stable,  saddled  his  master’s  best  steed,  noiselessly  led 
it  to  the  public  highway  beyond  the  mansion,  and, 
turning  its  head  toward  the  realm  of  freedom, 
mounted,  and  giving  the  noble  beast  the  rein,  was 
soon  moving  with  such  velocity  as  to  place  fifty  miles 
between  him  and  his  master  and  mother  by  the  time 
the  first  gray  tinge  of  morning  began  to  break  along 
the  eastern  hills.  Riding  deep  into  a wooded  ravine 
he  secured  the  horse  for  the  day,  and  then  betook 
himself  to  sleep.  At  evening  he  unloosed  the  beast 
stripping  it  of  saddle  and  bridle,  and  then  betook 
himself  to  the  woods  and  by-ways,  shunning  all 
towns  and  subsisting  on  green  corn  and  such  fruits 
as  he  could  find  for  a period  of  fifteen  days,  when, 
weary  and  forlorn,  he  entered  Wheeling  just  before 
daylight.  An  utter  stranger,  and  almost  perishing 
with  hunger,  he  knew  not  what  to  do,  but  seeing  a 
light  in  the  bar-room  of  the  City  Hotel  he  resolved 
to  enter,  hoping  to  find  some  attendant  of  his  own 
race,  to  whom  he  could  appeal  for  food  and  assist- 
ance across  the  river.  Instead  of  an  attache,  the 
landlord  was  himself  already  astir.  Though  resid- 
ing on  sacred  soil  and  in  many  respects  a typical 


PLUCKY  CHARLEY. 


155 


Virginian,  mine  host  kept  only  hired  servants,  and 
though  in  no  wise  disposed  to  discuss  the  merits  of 
the  peculiar  institution  pro  or  con,  he  was  often  able 
to  make  wise  suggestions  to  the  thoughtless  or  incon- 
siderate of  both  sections  who  might  temporarily  be 
his  guests. 

Once  fairly  within  and  under  the  scrutinizing 
gaze  of  this  man,  Charley  made  bold  to  ask  for  bread. 

“Bread,  you  want,  do  you,  you  black  runaway?” 
said  the  landlord  rather  roughly. 

“ I’ze  no  runa — ” 

“Yes  you  are  you  black  rascal.  Come  go  with 
me  and  I'll  show  you  something. 

Instinctively  following  the  footsteps  of  the  land- 
lord, Charley  was  led  to  the  stable  where  he  recog- 
nized at  once  his  master’s  horse.  Then  the  man 
took  a paper  from  his  poeket  and  read  a complete 
description  of  him,  and  closed  by  saying:  “You  are 
this  Charley  and  your  master  will  give  S500  to  any 
man  who  will  return  you.” 

Seeing  he  was  caught,  Charley  pleaded,  “ 0 Lor,’ 
Massa,  doan  gib  me  up.” 

“ No,  I’ll  not ; your  master  is  close  at  hand.  Do 
you  see  that  house  across  the  lot  yonder?  ” 

“ Yes,  Massa,  I sees.” 

“ Well,  you  go  there  quick.  Tell  them  I sent  you 
and  that  they  must  take  care  of  you.  Go  right  in 
at  the  back  door.  Be  quick  or  you'll  be  caught.” 

With  both  heart  and  feet  a-bound,  Charley  made 
for  the  designated  place.  He  found  only  a woman, 


156  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

sick  upon  her  bed.  Ere  he  had  fairly  made  his 
errand  known,  there  was  heard  the  sound  of  horses’ 
feet  upon  the  street,  and  looking  out,  Charley  saw  his 
master  and  another  man  coming  at  full  speed,  and 
began  to  cry. 

“Get  under  the  bed,  quick,  and  keep  perfectly 
still,”  said  the  woman ; a command  which  was 
obeyed  without  questioning.  Catching  up  her  baby, 
the  woman  gave  it  a tumble  which  set  it  to  crying 
like  mad.  Just  then  the  master  thrust  his  head  in 
at  the  door  and  inquired,  “ Have  you  seen  a young 
nigger  come  in  here  ? ” 

“Hush  h-u!”  “ Wah  ka-wa!”  “What  did!” 
“ Wha-ka  wa  wa!”  “hush  there — did  you  say?” 
“ Ka-wha  wa  wah.” 

“ I say  did  ” — “ ka  wha  ka  wha  wa  ! ” “ did  you 
see  a young  nigger  come  in  here?  ” 

“ We  wha  ke  wah  wa  ! ” “ hush-t-h-e-re ! ” — “ hus- 
band is” — “we  wa  wah!” — “at  the  barn!” — “we 
wa  ah!” — “he  can  tell  you!” — “ wa  we  wah  ke 
wha ! ” and  the  door  was  slammed  to  by  the  dis- 
gusted Southeron. 

Whilst  the  trio  were  hastening  to  the  barn, 
Charley,  in  obedience  to  the  woman’s  directions, 
hastily  ascended  a ladder  in  the  corner  of  the  room, 
which  he  drew  up,  and  placed  a board  in  such  a 
way  as  to  obliterate  all  appearance  of  an  opening  in 
the  floor. 

The  conference  at  the  barn  was  short,  and  away 
went  the  riders  up  the  road  in  hot  pursuit  of  a 


PLUCKY  CHARLEY. 


157 


mythical  nigger  the  man  at  the  barn  had  seen  run- 
ning in  that  direction  not  half  an  hour  before. 

In  a few  minutes  the  husband  returned  to  the 
house,  milk  pail  in  hand,  but  entirely  ignorant  of 
what  had  transpired  within.  “ What  about  the  boy, 
wife,  those  men  were  enquiring  about?  I supposed 
they  were  in  pursuit  of  some  one,  so  I sent  them  up 
the  road  after  an  imaginary  man,”  he  said. 

“ Well,  I don’t  know  anything  about  your  imagi- 
nary man,  but  I know  about  the  boy,”  replied  the 
wife. 

“ Well,  where  is  he  ? ” 

“ He  went  from  under  my  bed  up  the  ladder 
whilst  the  men  were  going  for  you.  Baby  helped 
the  matter  mightily7.  Now  you  must  carry  the  poor 
fellow  something  to  eat.” 

As  soon  as  it  was  deemed  safe,  the  ladder  was  let 
down,  and  Charley  wTas  supplied  with  a hearty 
breakfast,  and  then  bidden  to  make  himself  com- 
fortable for  the  day,  a thing  he  was  not  slow  to  do, 
as  he  had  slept  little  since  his  flight  began.  When 
evening  came,  he  was  called  down,  and  after  a 
bountiful  supper,  which  wras  dispatched  in  silence, 
he  was  taken  to  the  road  where  three  horses  were 
standing.  On  one  of  these  a man  was  already 
seated ; the  second  Charley  was  bidden  to  mount, 
and  into  the  saddle  of  the  third  his  kind  host 
vaulted. 

Moving  around  the  towrn,  they  came  to  a road 
leading  northward,  Charley7’s  feelings  alternately 


158  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

ebbing  and  flowing  between  fear  and  hope,  for,  not- 
withstanding the  kindness  of  his  host  and  hostess, 
he  could  but  fear  that  he  was  to  be  given  up  for  the 
$500. 

Proceeding  some  distance  up  the  river,  the  horses 
were  hitched  in  some  bushes  and  the  party  de- 
scended to  the  river,  where  a boat  was  loosened  and 
Charley  was  bidden  to  enter.  When  all  were  seated, 
the  little  craft  pushed  out  into  the  stream,  and  soon 
Charley  and  his  host  stepped  onto  the  other  shore. 
Going  up  the  bank  into  a public  highway,  the  man 
placed  in  his  hands  some  little  articles  of  clothing 
and  some  bread,  and  then,  pointing  with  the  index 
finger,  said:  “Yonder  is  the  North  Star;  you  are 
now  in  a free  state  and  may  go  forward  ; may  God 
bless  you ; good-by ; and  before  Charley,  in  his 
astonishment,  could  utter  a word,  he  was  gone.  A 
few  moments  the  fugitive  stood  in  a reverie  which 
was  broken  by  the  splash  of  the  oar  in  the  river  be- 
low, and  he  awoke  to  the  consciousness  that  he  was 
again  alone.  On  the  one  hand  was  the  beautiful 
river,  whose  outline  he  could  dimly  see ; on  the 
other  were  far  reaching  fields,  with  no  habitation 
looming  up  in  the  darkness,  and  above  him  was  the 
star  bespangled  sky,  among  whose  myriad  twinklers 
he  looked  in  vain  for  the  one  which  had  so  recently 
been  pointed  out  to  him.  Alas,  the  defectiveness  of 
his  education!  whilst  others  of  his  kind  had  been 
diligent  in  securing  a definite  knowledge  of  this 
loadstone  of  the  Heavens,  he  had  been  happy  in  the 


PLUCKY  CHARLEY. 


159 


discharge  of  the  light  duties  of  his  childhood  home, 
never  once  thinking  of  flight  until  the  fact  of  his  sale 
was  broken  to  him  by  his  mother,  and  then  there 
was  no  time  for  schooling.  The  dazed  condition  in 
which  he  now  found  himself  from  the  revelations  of 
the  past  hour  caused  him  to  look  up  to  the  starry 
firmament  as  into  vacancy,  finding  nothing  with 
which  to  guide  himself.  At  length  he  proceeded  a 
short  distance,  but  becoming  bewildered  he  sat  down 
and  soon  fell  asleep  and  dreamed  that  two  men 
came  and  were  putting  him  in  jail.  His  struggles 
and  resistance  wakened  him,  and  he  set  out  and 
proceeded  as  best  he  could  in  the  darkness.  Just  at 
daylight  he  espied  a piece  of  paper  nailed  to  a fence. 

Approaching  it  he  perceived  it  had  upon  it  the 
picture  of  a negro  running,  and  in  every  way  looked 
like  the  one  the  landlord  had  shown  him  in  the 
barn.  Whilst  standing  thus  before  the  picture, 
wrapped  in  thought  as  to  what  to  do  next,  he  felt  a 
hand  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  turning  saw  a man 
with  a very  broad-brimmed  hat  and  so  peculiarly 
clothed  as  he  had  never  seen  one  before.  He  was 
about  to  run  when  the  man  said:  “Stop,  friend, 
thee  need  not  run.  What  have  we  here  ? ” and 
reading  the  bill,  he  at  once  remarked : “ Why, 

friend,  this  means  thee,  and  thy  master  is  ready  to 
pay  any  man  $500,  who  will  place  thee  in  his  hands. 
Come  with  me  or  somebody  may  enrich  himself  at 
thy  expense.” 

There  was  somethingr  so  kind  and  frank  in  the 


l6o  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

manner  and  words  of  the  man  that  Charley  followed 
him  to  a retreat  deep  in  the  woods.  Seeing  that  he 
had  bread  with  him,  the  stranger  said : “ Keep 

quiet  and  I will  bring  thee  more  food  to-night,”  and 
immediately  left. 

As  was  customary  in  other  cases,  hand-bills  min- 
utely describing  Charley  had  been  widely  distributed, 
and,  of  course,  read  by  everybody,  and  it  being  a 
free  country  everybody  had  a right  to  apply  the  in- 
formation gained  as  he  saw  fit.  So  it  was  that  when 
Charley’s  master  crossed  into  Ohio  twelve  hours  after 
his  chattel,  and  proceeded  northward,  he  found  no 
lack  of  persons  who  had  seen  just  such  a person  that 
very  day.  Even  our  friend  of  the  early  morning  de- 
scribed him  minutely  and  had  seen  him  wending 
his  way  into  the  interior  only  a few  hours  before, 
bearing  with  him  a little  bundle.  As  the  route  at 
this  season  of  the  year  was  supposed  to  be  towards 
Sandusky  or  Detroit,  the  pursuers  were  decoyed  on 
by  the  way  of  Carrollton,  Allian  and  Ravenna 
towards  the  lake,  by  the  smooth  stories  of  men  who 
had  seen  him  only  a day  or  two  before — but  only  on 
paper.  Wearied,  however,  they  at  length  committed 
his  capture  to  the  hands  of  the  organized  set  of  biped 
hounds  which  infested  the  whole  south  shore  from 
Detroit  to  Buffalo,  and  returned  homeward. 

When  Charley’s  friend  returned  to  him  in  the 
evening,  he  informed  him  of  the  little  interview  he 
had  had  with  his  master,  and  that  it  would  be  neces- 
sary for  him  to  remain  some  time  in  his  charge. 


HANNAH  PRAYING. 


PLUCKY  CHARLEY.  1 6 1 

He  was  consequently  taken  to  a more  comfortable 
hiding  place,  and  after  the  lapse  of  some  three  weeks 
was  forwarded  by  way  of  New  Lisbon,  Poland,  and 
Indian  Run,  to  Meadville,  and  thence  by  way  of 
Cambridge  and  Union  to  the  parsonage  at  Wattsburg. 

III. 

The  traveler  who  has  been  swept  along  on  the  Nickle 
Plate  or  Lake  Shore  Rail  Road  over  the  Black  Swamp 
country  and  onward  through  Cleveland,  Ashtabula 
and  Erie,  seeing  little  that  savors  of  roughness,  ex- 
cept perchance  the  gulches  about  the  Forest  City,  the 
bluffs  at  Euclid  and  Little  Mountain  in  the  distance, 
would  little  think  as  he  crosses  the  unpretentious 
bridges  spanning  Six-Mile-Creek,  east  of  Erie,  that 
just  a little  way  back  it  passed  through  some  wild 
and  rugged  country;  yet  such  is  the  fact.  Down 
through  a deep  gorge  come  its  crystal  waters,  wThilst 
high  above  them  on  its  precipitate  banks  the  hem- 
lock has  cast  its  somber  shadows  for  centuries.  Into 
a thin,  scarcely  accessible  portion  of  this  gorge  came 
years  ago  John  Cass,  and  took  possession  of  a primi- 
tive “carding  works,”  where  he  diligently  plied  his 
craft,  rearing  his  sons  and  daughters  to  habits  of  in- 
dustry, frugality,  virtue,  and  a love  of  their  little 
church,  which  is  situated  some  two  miles  away  on  an 
elevated  plateau,  which,  from  its  largely  Celtic  popu- 
lation has  acquired  the  appelation  of  “ Wales.” 

The  little  Celts  of  this  rural  community  were  very 
much  surprised  one  winter  day  to  see  their  old  pastor, 


162 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


Parson  Rice,  who  resided  at  Wattsburg,  go  dash- 
ing by  the  school-house  with  a colored  man  in  his 
sleigh.  Never  before  had  their  unsophisticated  eyes 
seen  such  a sight,  and  what  they  that  day  beheld 
was  the  all-engrossing  theme  in  the  homes  of  the 
Joneses  the  Williamses  and  the  Davises  that  night. 

As  for  Parson  Rice,  he  kept  right  on  down,  down, 
until  he  reached  the  carding  works  of  his  worthy 
parishioner,  where  the  woolly  head  of  Charley  was 
safely  hidden  amid  fleeces  of  a far  whiter  hue. 

In  this  retreat  he  remained  for  some  time,  and 
was  taught  his  letters  by  the  young  Casses,  William, 
Edward,  Jane  and  the  others.  When,  at  length,  it 
was  deemed  safe  to  remove  him,  he  was  taken  by 
Mrs.  Cass  to  the  office  of  the  True  American  in  the 
city.  From  this,  after  a little  delay,  he  was  con- 
veyed to  the  home  of  Col.  Jas.  Moorhead,  who  passed 
him  on  to  Parson  Nutting,  at  State  Line,  by  whom 
he  was  duly  forwarded  to  Knowlton  Station,  West- 
field,  New  York. 

Though  the  temperature  was  below  zero,  it  was 
again  getting  hot  for  Charley,  for  vigilant  eyes  all 
along  the  line  were  watching  for  the  young  nigger 
whose  return  to  his  master  was  sure  to  bring  $500, 
and  that  he  had  reached  the  lake  shore  was  now  a 
well  ascertained  fact,  and  unusual  activity  was 
noticed  among  the  kidnapping  crew. 

It  was  a bitter  cold  day,  with  the  snow  flying  and 
drifting,  that  Mr.  Knowlton’s  spanking  team  of  jet 
blacks,  still  well  remembered  by  many  a Westfielder, 


PLUCKY  CHARLEY. 


163 

came  out  of  his  yard  attached  to  a sleigh,  iu  the  bot- 
tom of  which  was  a package  evidently  of  value,  as  it 
was  carefully  covered  with  blankets  and  robe. 
Under  a tight  rein  the  team  headed  eastward,  and 
with  almost  the  fleetness  of  the  wind  passed  Port- 
land, Brocton,  and  turning  at  the  old  Pemberton 
stand,  in  Fredonia,  made  Pettit  Station.  Here 
Charley  was  made  safe  and  happy  for  the  night,  and 
the  next  day  was  landed  safely  in  the  Queen’s 
Dominion  from  Black  Rock. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


ST  ATI  E LINES. 

I. 

IT  was  in  the  decade  of  the  forties  that  an  enter- 
prising farmer,  named  Barbour,  of  the  Empire 
State,  said  to  his  neighbor,  “ Smith,  I’ve  a project  in 
my  head.” 

‘‘Nothing  strange  in  that,”  was  the  response  ; “ I 
never  knew  the  time  when  you  didn’t  have  one  ; but 
what  is  it?  ” 

“Well,  you  know  I spent  a few  days  about  Wash- 
ington recently,  and  I believe  there  is  money  to  be 
made  in  going  into  its  vicinity  and  buying  up  some 
of  the  wTorn-out  farms  and  applying  to  them  our 
agricultural  methods,  and  raising  products  specially 
for  the  city  market.” 

“ What  can  they  be  purchased  for  ? ” 

“Anywhere  from  $5.00  to  $10.00  an  acre,  any 
amount  of  them.  I tell  you  there’s  money  in  it.” 

“ But  it  would  be  to  ostracise  one’s  self.  You 
know  that  there  they  consider  it  a disgrace  for  a 
white  man  to  labor.” 

“ All  right.  All  I propose  is  head  work.” 

“ How  is  that?  Democrat  as  you  are,  I don’t 
believe  you  would  go  so  far  as  to  invest  in  slaves.” 


STATIE  LINES. 


165 

“ No,  indeed.  I am  fully  satisfied  that  slavery  is 
the  curse  of  the  South,  yet  it  exists  there,  and  I am 
bound  to  make  some  money  out  of  it  and  its  fruits. 
You  see  the  land  has  been  rendered  worthless  by 
slave  labor  in  the  hands  of  the  masters,  hence  the 
extremely  low  price  of  it.  As  a result  of  the  deterio- 
rated condition  of  their  farms,  the  owners  of  slaves 
are  now  hiring  them  out  for  wages  which  range 
much  lower  than  with  us  here  in  New  York.  Whilst 
loathing  slavery  in  the  abstract,  I confess  I propose 
to  use  it  for  a while  on  wages,  if  some  of  my  neigh- 
bors will  join  me  in  a purchase,  so  we  can  have  a 
little  society  of  our  own.  Will  you  take  a hand, 
Smith?” 

“ I’ll  think  of  it.” 

As  a result  of  the  above  conversation  there  were 
purchased  in  a few  weeks  seven  or  eight  worn-out 
farms  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Washington,  and 
in  a short  time  they  were  occupied  by  as  many  sterl- 
ing families  from  Onondaga  county,  N.  Y.  Modern 
methods  of  agriculture  were  applied,  fertilizers  were 
abundantly  used,  and  though  slave  labor  was  ex- 
tensively employed  the  fields  soon  yielded  luxuri- 
antly, and  everything  wTas  at  high  tide  with  the  new- 
comers, disturbed  only  by  the  twinges  of  conscience 
at  the  employment  of  southern  chattel. 

Among  those  who  furnished  these,  was  a Mr. 
Lines,  residing  just  across  the  Potomac,  in  Virginia. 
Of  him  Mr.  Barbour  hired  a number  of  slaves,  among 
them  a woman  named  Statie,  nearly  white,  who  was 


l66  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

the  mother  of  an  amiable  little  girl  six  or  seven  years 
of  age,  bearing  a close  resemblance  to  the  children 
belonging  in  the  Lines  mansion.  This  woman  had 
the  privilege  of  hiring  herself  out  on  condition  of 
paying  her  master  $10  per  month  and  clothing  her- 
self and  child.  This  she  did  cheerfully,  laying  by 
what  she  could,  under  the  hope  of  being  able  ulti- 
mately to  buy  the  freedom  of  her  little  girl,  Lila,  who 
was  permitted  to  be  with  her  at  Mr.  Barbour’s  where 
mother  and  child  were  both  very  kindly  and  con- 
siderately treated. 

The  excellent  qualities  of  Statie  as  a cook  having 
been  noised  about,  her  services  were  sought  for  a 
Washington  hotel  where  much  higher  wages  were 
paid  than  Mr.  Barbour  could  afford  and  he  advised 
her  to  go,  as  a means  of  the  sooner  freeing  her  child, 
which  was  consequently  transferred  to  the  home  of 
her  owner , where  her  services  could  now  be  made  of 
some  little  avail. 

At  the  end  of  a quarter  Statie  was  permitted  to 
visit  home,  where  she  soon  learned  through  a fellow 
slave  that  a dealer  had  been  negotiating  for  Lila  and 
that  at  his  return  in  a few  weeks  a price  was  to  be 
fixed  and  he  was  to  take  her.  The  heart  of  the 
mother  was  wrung  with  agony,  but  the  soul  of  the 
heroine  rose  triumphant  and  she  went  into  the  pres- 
ence of  Mr.  Lines  with  a smile  upon  her  face  and  the 
cheery  words,  “ Here,  Master,  are  your  thirty  dollars, 
and  I’ve  half  as  many  laid  by  for  the  purchase  of 
Lila,”  upon  her  lips. 


STATIE  LINES. 


167 


“ Indeed,  Statie,  you’ve  done  well.  It  won’t  be 
long  till  I’ll  have  to  give  the  little  doll  up  if  you  go 
on  at  this  rate.” 

“ I hope  not,  master,  for  I long  to  see  the  darling 
with  her  free  papers  in  hand.” 

With  a lying  effort,  the  master  replied,  “ I hope 
you  may  succeed,  for  I would  much  sooner  sell  her 
to  you  than  to  any  one  else,  and  I shall  wait  on  you 
as  long  as  possible.” 

Expressing  her  thanks  for  what  she  knew  was  a 
hypocritical  promise,  Statie  asked  that  the  child 
might  be  allowed  to  accompany  her  to  the  capital  for 
a few  days,  a request  readily  granted  by  Mr.  Lines 
that  he  might  the  more  easily  avert  any  suspicion  of 
his  real  purpose. 

Cutting  short  her  visit,  Statie  soon  started  with  her 
child  for  the  city,  but  walked  several  miles  out  of 
her  way  to  lay  her  troubles  before  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bar- 
bour, wdio  were  greatly  shocked  at  the  revelation. 
Though  depreciating  anything  in  the  line  of  under- 
ground work,  Mr.  Barbour,  to  whom  Lila  had  spec- 
ially endeared  herself  by  her  childish  ingenuousness, 
after  a few  moments  reflection  said,  “ Wife,  you  know 
I propose  making  a journey  across  Pennsylvania 
soon  to  the  vicinity  of  our  old  home.  Will  there  be 
any  harm  in  my  seeing  that  Lila  gets  there  ? ” 

“No,  husband;  and  you  have  my  permission  to 
see  that  Statie  goes  too.  I don’t  think  your  politics 
ought  to  cripple  your  humanity,  much  less  your  reli- 
gion. Do  unto  others  as  ye  would  that  they  should  do 
unto  you.'1'1 


l68  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

Mr.  Barbour’s  mind  was  soon  made  up,  and  Statie 
was  dismissed  with  instructions  to  meet  him  on  a 
by-road  a little  way  out  from  the  old  north  burial 
ground  soon  after  dark  on  the  Wednesday  evening 
following. 

In  arranging  for  his  proposed  trip,  Mr.  Barbour 
had  provided  himself  with  a good  team  and  a “ Jer- 
sey wagon”  well  covered  with  oil  cloth,  supported 
by  bows.  In  this  wagon  he  placed  a high  box  so 
cut  down  in  front  as  to  furnish  a seat  for  himself, 
and  so  arranged  that  a person  could  sit  upright  in 
the  hinder  part  with  feet  projecting  forward.  To  the 
rear  of  this  box,  were  attached  doors,  secured  by  a 
padlock  whilst  a good  supply  of  straw,  clothing  and 
provisions  were  placed  within.  When  all  else  was 
ready,  the  Jersey  was  labeled  “Clocks,”  and  Wed- 
nesday night  Mr.  Barbour  drove  out  to  the  point  of 
rendezvous  where  Statie  and  Lila  were  found  wait- 
ing, they  were  immediately  placed  in  their  extempor- 
ized retreat  and  the  unique  emancipation  car  moved 
northward  across  the  hills  of  Maryland  at  a rapid  rate. 

II. 

It  was  court  time  in  Warsaw,  N.  Y.,  and  a large 
number  of  people  were  gathered  about  the  principal 
hotel  when  a man  holding  the  reins  over  a spanking 
team  drove  up  and  ordered  accommodations  for  the 
team  and  himself.  Beckoning  the  hostler  forward 
he  proceeded  with  the  team.  As  he  passed,  a by- 
stander remarked,  “ A right,  royal  team,  that.” 


STATIE  LINES. 


169 


,l  Pretty  good  for  a peddler,”  remarked  another. 

“ Do  you  call  that  man  a peddler?  ” queried  a 
third. 

“Didn’t  you  see  ‘Clocks’  on  the  cover?”  came 
back  from  No.  2. 

“ No,  indeed,”  was  the  reply,  “ I was  too  intent  in 
looking  upon  the  horses  to  notice  anything  else. 
Some  down  easter  I suppose  ; sold  out  his  load  over 
among  the  pennymights,  and  is  now  on  his  way 
home  likely.” 

Breakfast  over  the  traveler  inquired  of  the  landlord 
if  he  knew  one  Col.  C.  0.  Shepard,  of  Attica. 

“ Very  well,”  was  the  reply,  “he  is  here  attending 
court.” 

“ I shall  be  glad  to  see  him.  As  he  is  a stranger 
to  me,  you  will  please  call  him  in.” 

The  Colonel  soon  appeared  when  the  stranger  said, 
“This  is  Col.  Shepard,  I believe.” 

“ Shepard  is  my  name,  but  I have  not  the  honor 
of  knowing  you,  sir.” 

“ It  is  not  essential  that  you  should ; to  me  it  is 
politic  you  should  not.  I wish  to  make  a little  con- 
signment to  you,”  saying  which  he  led  the  way  to 
the  barn,  followed  by  the  Colonel  and  a number  of 
by-standers,  where  he  opened  a box  in  his  vehicle 
from  which  emerged  a well-formed  octaroon  woman 
of  some  thirty  summers  and  a sprightly  girl,  white 
as  any  in  the  homes  of  Warsaw.  At  the  sight  of 
these  there  went  up  a rousing  three  times  three,  at 
the  conclusion  of  which  the  stranger  said,  “ These, 


1 70  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

gentlemen,  are  what  among  my  neighbors  are  called 
chattel  and  treated  as  such,  and  that  with  my  tacit 
endorsement,  at  least.  Ten  days  ago  if  any  man  had 
told  me  I would  assist  one  to  escape,  I should  have 
laughed  him  to  scorn ; but  when  this  poor  woman 
who  had  worked  faithfully  in  my  family  to  earn  the 
wherewith  to  buy  the  freedom  of  her  own  flesh  and 
blood,  which,  against  honied  professions  to  the  con- 
trary from  him  who  should  have  been  the  innocent 
one’s  firmest  protector,  was  about  to  be  sold  into  an 
ignominious  servitude,  came  to  me  and  pleaded  for 
the  deliverance  of  her  child  and  my  wife  quoted, 
‘Do  unto  others  as  3re  would  that  they  should  do 
unto  you,’  my  sense  of  right  and  humanity  rose 
above  all  political  antecedents  and  predilections  and 
here  I am.  Since  leaving  the  Potomac,  no  human 
eye  has  looked  upon  these  beings  but  mine  until  this 
moment.  My  affiliations  and  the  fact  it  was  well 
known  I was  coming  north  on  business  will  shield 
me  from  suspicion,  therefore  ask  no  questions.  To 
the  direct  care  of  Colonel  Shepard,  of  whom  the  slave- 
owners in  Dixie  well  know  and  to  the  protection  of 
you  all,  I now  consign  them,  trusting  that  no  master's 
hand  shall  ever  again  be  laid  upon  them.” 

There  was  again  vociforous  cheering,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  which  Col.  Shepard  said,  “We  accept  the 
charge  and  I ask  as  a special  favor  that  you  give  me 
the  box  in  which  you  have  brought  them  thus  far  on 
their  way,  as  a kind  of  memento,”  a request  that  was 
readily  acceded  to,  and  in  a few  minutes  a Jersey 


STATIE  LINES. 


171 

wagon  labeled  “ Clocks  ” was  speeding  rapidly  east- 
ward, whilst  in  a day  or  two  the  box  and  its  former 
occupants  were  taken  triumphantly  to  Attica,  the 
home  of  Col.  Shepard. 

III. 

The  time  was  when  every  person  holding  an  office 
under  the  general  government  was  supposed  to  be  in 
sympathy  with  the  slave  power  and  ready  to  obey 
its  behests,  an  idea  somewhat  erroneous.  It  was 
under  such  impressions  that  two  strangers  rode  up 
to  the  post-office  in  the  village  of  Attica  and  inquired 
for  the  postmaster.  On  that  functionary’s  presenting 
himself  they  inquired  if  he  knew  anything  of  a slave 
woman,  nearly  white,  with  her  little  girl,  being  in 
the  neighborhood,  as  such  persons  had  recently  es- 
capea  from  the  vicinity  of  Washington,  and  were  be- 
lieved by  them  to  be  in  the  immediate  vicinity. 

The  postmaster  invited  them  to  alight  and  come 
inside,  which  being  complied  with,  he  said,  “ Gem 
tlemen,  the  persons  you  seek  are  within  a half  mile 
of  you,  but  though  I might  under  some  circum- 
stances be  willing  to  assist  you,  my  advice  is,  let 
them  alone.  Every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the 
town  is  ready  to  protect  them.  You  can  not  raise 
men  enough  in  this  county  to  secure  their  apprehen- 
sion. I see  by  the  commotion  in  the  street  the  peo- 
ple are  apprehensive  of  mischief.  Such  a thing  as 
an  abduction  has  never  been  attempted  here,  and  if 
you  are  wise  you  will  not  attempt  one  now.  Indeed 


172 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


I would  not  like  to  guarantee  your  limbs  or  life  fif- 
teen minutes  longer.” 

Beholding  the  commotion,  the  would-be  kidnap- 
pers quickly  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  silently 
out  of  town,  no  demonstration  being  made  by  the 
multitude  until  the  meddlers  reached  the  bridge,  when 
cheer  on  cheer  arose,  causing  them  to  put  spurs  to 
their  horses  and  get  quickly  out  of  sight,  notwith- 
standing their  threats  to  secure  their  prey,  a thing 
they  never  attempted. 

Statie  died  within  two  years  after  her  escape ; Col. 
Shepard  long  kept  the  box  in  which  she  was  brought 
off  as  the  only  “ through  car  ” he  had  ever  seen ; 
Lila  is  still  a resident  of  the  Empire  State,  whilst  Mr. 
Barbour,  having  disposed  of  his  real  estate  sought  a 
clime  more  congenial  to  his  sense  of  justice  and  hu- 
manity. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

GEORGE  GRAY. 


I. 

MY  deah  chile,  ’tis  too  had.” 

“ Too  bad,  mother ! I tell  you  I’s  agoin  ’ to 
run  away.  Ole  Massa  can’t  whip  dis  chile  no  moah. 
I’d  rather  be  shot  or  hab  the  dogs  tear  me  to  pieces.” 

“Hush,  chile,  hush!  you’ll  break  your  ole  mud- 
der’s  heart,  ’cause  its  a most  done  gone  smashed 
afore,  an’  now  she  knows  you  can  neber,  neber,  get 
across  the  big  river  an’  de  great  lake.  I tell  yer, 
chile,  you  better  stay  wid  ole  mas’r  if  ern  do  whip.” 

“ Mother,  my  mine  is  made  up.  Masssa  Jones 
hab  whipped  George  Gray  for  de  las  time.  I hate 
to  leave  you,  mother,  but  then  I’s  agoin.’  Some  day 
de  Massa’ll  sell  me  as  he  did  father  an’  de  res’  of  us 
down  South,  an’  then  you  shall  see  George  no  moah, 
an’  I’d  hab  no  blessed  chance  for  ’scape,  so  now  I’s 
goin’  for  freedom  or  I’s  goin’  to  die.  I say  ole  massa 
can’t  whip  me  no  moah.” 

“ De  will  ob  de  Lor’  be  done,  chile ; but  how  is 
you  agoin’  to  do  it  ? ” 

“ I’ll  tell  you  mother,  ole  Masa’ll  neber  s’pec’  you, 
He’ll  neber  look  for  George  ’bout  dis  shanty.  So  I’s 
agoin’  down  to  de  river  an’  cross  down  in  de  skiff, 


174 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


den  I goes  to  de  swamp  an’  comes  carefully  back 
an’  crawls  under  your  bed.  When  Massa  misses  me, 
you  can  tell  him  I’s  runned  away,  an’  he’ll  start  the 
horses  an’  the  men  for  de  swamp,  an’  for  two  or 
three  days  they’ll  hunt  for  George  there  jus’  as  they 
did  for  Uncle  Pete;  den  Massa’ll  put  me  in  de  pap- 
ers as  a runaway  nigger,  an’  then  when  all  is  ober 
heah  I’s  cornin’  out  an’  goin’  at  de  river  an’  cross 
de  mountins  till  I gits  to  Canidy.” 

“ De  bressed  Lor,’  an’  doan  yer  s’pec’  ole  Massa’ll 
hunt  dis  shanty  trough  an’  trough,  chile  ?” 

“ Ole  Massa’ll  never  s’pec’  you,  mother  ; you’s  been 
wid  him  too  long.  He  never  whipped  you,  an’  when 
he  comes  in  de  mornin’,  for  to  inquire,  you  mus’  be 
prayin’ ; prayin  ’for  me  that  I may  be  cotched.’’ 

“ Bress  de  Lor’,  he  mus’  ’ov  put  all  dis  in  de  head 
of  de  chile  as  he  put  his  son  Moses  in  de  bullrushes 
down  dar  in  de  lan’  of  Canin.  Chile,  your  black  ole 
mudder’ll  cover  you  wid  her  bed  like  as  the  ole  black 
hen  covers  her  chicks  when  de  hawk  comes  to  steal 
de  little  ones  from  dar  muder’s  lub.  Now,  chile,’ 
jus’  you  fix  it  all  up  an’  de  Lor’  ob  dat  big  feller, 
Sabot,  yes  dat  was  de  man,  be  wid  you,  an’  it  doan 
matter  bout  dis  ole  woman  no  moah.” 

The  above  conversation  took  place  many  years  ago 
in  a cabin  in  the  negro  quarter  of  the  plantation  of 
Samuel  Jones  on  the  James  river,  in  Virginia.  Mr. 
Jones  was  a thriving  planter  and  an  extensive  dealer 
in  slaves.  Though  in  some  respects  of  the  better 
class  of  slave-breeders,  he  inherited  many  of  the 


GEORGE  GRAY. 


175 


legitimate  characteristics  of  the  peculiar  institution. 
Towards  the  men  slaves  he  was  tyranical  in  the  ex- 
treme, whilst  eyeing  the  fairer  and  younger  among 
the  women  with  an  eye  of  lechery. 

The  plantation  had  come  to  him  from  his  father, 
and  with  it  the  family  of  John  Gray  consisting  of 
himself  and  wife,  known  for  miles  around  as  “ Pray- 
in  ’ Hanner,”  and  several  children.  The  father  and 
older  children,  all  having  a slight  tinge  of  the  Cau- 
cassion  about  them,  Mr.  Jones  early  sold  to  southern 
dealers,  retaining  only  the  mother  and  her  infant 
George. 

The  mother,  on  account  of  her  acknowledged  piety 
and  ability  to  labor,  was  assigned  a special  cabin  and 
for  years  had  done  the  family  laundry  work  and 
baking  and  discharged  other  duties  of  a similar  char- 
acter. Resigned  to  her  condition,  she  labored  on 
year  after  year,  ever  singing  and  praying  and  with 
her  loyalty  all  unquestioned.  Not  so  with  her  grow- 
ing boy,  however.  The  white  blood  that  was  in  him, 
though  limited,  constantly  rebelled  against  his  con- 
dition, and  as  his  years  advanced,  brought  on  fre- 
quent conflicts  between  him  and  his  master,  which 
invariably  ended  in  the  boy’s  being  severely  whipped. 
Though  feeling  for  him,  on  such  occasions,  as  only  a 
mother  can  feel,  still  Hannah  Gray  exhorted  him  to 
be  obedient  and  submissive.  Whenever  the  master 
threatened  to  sell  him  south,  then  it  was  that  her 
prayers  that  one  of  her  kin  might  be  left  to  her 
mightily  prevailed.  The  natural  adaptability  of  the 


176 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


youth  secured  for  him  many  privileges,  and  he  had 
been  with  his  master  several  times  to  the  national 
capital  and  other  points  and  had  picked  up  much 
general  intelligence,  and  his  mode  of  expression  had, 
to  some  extent,  risen  above  the  plantation  vernacular. 

The  conflict  on  this  particular  occasion  had  arisen 
between  master  and  slave  because  George  had  asked 
the  privilege  of  visiting  a young  quadroon  of  the 
plantation  on  whom  Jones  had  fastened  his  lecher- 
ous eyes.  As  usual  the  controversy  ended  in  the 
young  man’s  being  bound  to  a post  by  some  of  the 
hands  and  then  inhumanly  flogged  by  his  owner. 
Stung  to  madness,  when  all  were  settled  for  the 
night,  he  left  his  quarters  and  sought  the  cabin  of  his 
mother,  and  there,  as  we  have  seen,  divulged  his  de- 
termination to  seek  a land  of  freedem.  True  to  his 
purpose,  when  he  had  gained  his  mother’s  consent, 
he  went  down  to  the  river  and  unloosing  a skiff 
floated  down  with  the  current  some  distance  and 
then  landing,  struck  boldly  across  to  a neighboring 
swamp.  Entering  this,  he  passed  on  a short  distance 
until  he  came  to  a small  creek  which  led  directly  to 
the  river.  He  now  divested  himself  of  his  clothing 
which  he  safely  placed  upon  his  shoulders,  and  fol- 
lowing the  cove  soon  reached  the  river  into  which  he 
plunged,  and  being  an  expert  swimmer,  was  soon  on 
the  home  side  again,  and  making  his  way  quietly  to 
his  mother’s  cabin,  where  he  was  safely  secreted  be- 
neath what  he  had  augured  an  impregnable  citadel, 
her  bed. 


GEORGE  GRAY. 


177 


Morning  came  soon,  and  the  hands  sallied  from 
their  quarters  but  with  them  came  no  George  Gray. 
The  word  spread  rapidly  and  soon  reached  both  the 
cabin  of  Prayin’  Hanner  and  the  mansion  that  he 
was  missing.  As  soon  as  the  proprietor  could  dress 
himself  and  make  proper  inquiries,  he  hastened  to 
the  shanty  of  the  mother  whom  he  found  at  her 
morning  devotions,  having  begun  them  just  as  she 
saw  his  approach.  Not  wishing  to  disturb  her  he 
stopped  before  the  door  and  caught  these  words  of 
invocation : 

“ Bressed  Lor’,  dey  say  my  poah,  dear  chile  am 
gone.  Am  he  drown  ? may  de  Lor’  raise  de  body 
up  dat  dis  ole  black  form  may  follow  in  its  sorrow  to 
de  grabe.  Hab  he  killed  hisself?  may  de  Lor’  hab 
mercy  on  his  soul,  for  Geog’  was  a bad  boy;  he  made 
mas’r  heaps  o’  trouble.  O Lor’,  if  he  hab  runned 
away,  may  mas’r  cotch  him  agin — not  de  houn’,  but 
mas’r  an’  de  men,  an’  den  when  mar’s  Jones  whip 
him,  may  de  bressed  Lor’  sen’  down  ole  Lija,  an’ 
’vert  his  soul,  dat  he  no  moah  disrember  mas’r  but 
dat  he  do  his  will  for  his  ole  mudder’s  sake,  an’  for 
de  sake  ob  his  good  mas’r,  an’  for  de  sake  ob  dat 
heben  whar  de  Lor’  is.  Dis,  Lor’,  am  de  prayer  of 
poah  ole  Hanner,  amen.” 

The  prayer  ceased  and  the  master  entered,  only  to 
find,  as  he  inferred  from  it,  that  the  intelligence  of 
George’s  departure  had  preceded  him,  and  farther 
that  the  boy  had  been  in  there  the  night  before  and 
acted  very  strangely ; that  the  mother  had  advised 
him  to  go  to  his  quarters  and  be  a good  boy. 


i78 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


Leaving  the  woman  to  her  work,  he  went  out  and 
gave  orders  for  a search.  Soon  it  was  discovered 
that  the  skiff  was  gone  and  directly  after  it  was  found 
half  a mile  down  the  river  with  footsteps  leading 
towards  the  swamp.  A pack  of  hounds  belonging 
on  a plantation  below  was  sent  for  and  search  begun 
in  earnest,  and  kept  up  unceasingly  for  three  days 
but  without  success,  and  then  the  hands  were  called 
in.  In  the  meantime  there  appeared  in  the  Lynch- 
burg Herald  the  following : 

#500.00  Reward. 

“Run  Away  from  the  subscriber, 

George  Gray,  a negro,  nearly  pure,  about 
twenty-one  years  old,  and  weighing  one- 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  He  talks  pretty 
good  English.  Five  hundred  dollars  will 
be  given  for  him  alive.”  Samuel  Jones. 

Antwerp,  Va.,  June  25,  1841. 

During  these  days  the  cabin  of  Prayin’  Hanner 
was  filled  with  sacred  songs,  earnest  prayers  and 
sympathizing  visitors,  not  one  of  whom,  white  or 
black,  as  he  listened  to,  or  participated  in  the  devo- 
tions, supposed  for  one  moment  that  he  who  had 
called  them  all  forth,  that  “ deah  chile,”  was  quietly 
drinking  them  in.  When  the  nights  came,  and 
everything  was  still,  then  George  emerged  for  a little 
time  to  rest  and  refresh  himself. 

Thus  matters  passed  until  the  fourth  night  came. 
The  sun  set  amid  gathering  clouds.  The  returned 
hunters  gathered  in  their  quarters,  some  of  them  to 


GEORGE  GRAY’S  ESCAPE. 


GEORGE  GRAY. 


179 


tell  how  earnestly  they  had  sought  to  find  nothin’ ; 
others  to  depict  their  true  loyalty  to  Mar's  Jones, 
and  the  whites  in  their  homes  around,  to  swear  ven- 
geance on  every  nigger  caught  fleeing.  As  the  storm 
broke  and  the  darkness  became  more  intense,  George 
came  forth.  A little  bundle  of  clothing,  with  three 
days’  rations  of  food,  had  been  carefully  prepared 
for  him.  There  was  an  embrace,  tender  as  though 
the  participants  had  been  free,  a “ God  bless  you, 
Mother,”  a “ May  de  Lor’  still  be  wid  yer  as  he  hab 
bin,”  uttered  as  earnestly  as  though  by  cultured  lips, 
and  mother  and  son  parted,  never  to  see  each  other 
again. 

George  Gray  went  forth  fearlessly  into  the  dark- 
ness. The  country  he  knew  for  miles  around,  and 
for  weary  hours  he  made  his  way  directly  up  the 
south  bank  of  the  James.  Long  after  midnight  the 
moon  arose,  and  seeking  a fitting  place,  he  crossed 
the  river  and  just  as  the  first  gray  streakings  of  the 
dawn  appeared,  quietly  secreted  himself  in  a jungle 
of  bushes  upon  the  mountain  which  here  comes 
down  close  to  the  river.  The  rain  had  obliterated  all 
traces  of  his  course;  he  was  thought  to  have  gone  in 
an  opposite  direction  four  days  before.  Thus  far 
his  plans  had  worked  admirably,  and  feeling  safe, 
he  partook  of  his  rations  and  lay  down  to  a refresh- 
ing sleep. 

Night  found  him  again  in  motion,  and  by  the  time 
morning  came  he  had  made  considerable  progress. 
Again  he  rested  and  refreshed  himself,  and  quietly 


l8o  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

surveyed  the  prospect  for  the  future.  He  knew  he 
was  a long  way  from  the  Ohio;  that  much  of  the 
way  was  wild  and  mountainous,  and  that  wherever 
there  were  people  the  dangers  were  greatest.  His  lit- 
tle stock  of  provisions  would  soon  be  gone,  and  then 
the  berries  and  fruits  of  the  forest  would  be  his 
almost  sole  dependence,  only  occassionally  he  might 
go  down  to  some  bondman’s  cabin.  With  these 
facts  before  him  he  faltered  not,  but  pressed  reso- 
lutely forward,  only  to  find  as  he  approached  the 
river,  after  weary  weeks  of  vigil,  that  his  master’s  ad- 
vertisement had  preceded  him,  and  that  base  men 
were  watching  that  they  might  claim  the  reward. 
This  news  came  to  him  from  colored  men  whom  he 
occasionally  contrived  to  see,  for  the  great  humani- 
tarian thoroughfare  of  the  days  ante  bellum  had  its 
ramifications  among  the  mountains  of  Virginia,  as 
well  as  its  broader  lines  on  freer  soil,  though  unlike 
those  of  the  latter  their  officers  were  of  somber  hue. 
Taken  in  charge  by  one  of  these,  George  was  safely  put 
across  the  river  one  stormy  night,  and  in  care  of  a 
genuine  “ broad-brim  conductor  ” on  a main  trunk 
line,  but  not  until  his  presence  had  been  scented  by 
a pack  of  white  bloodhounds  all  too  anxious  lor  the 
recompence  of  reward,  and  whose  unholy  avarice 
was  equalled  only  by  the  wary  alertness  of  the  dis- 
ciple of  George  Fox. 


GEORGE  GRAY. 


181 


II. 

“ O for  a thousand  tongues  to  sing 
My  great  Redeemer’s  praise  ; 

The  glories  of  my  God  and  King, 

The  triumphs  of  His  grace.” 

Thus  sang  Azel  Tracy  as  he  stood  running  a wheel 
in  his  little  shop  in  Hartford,  Ohio.  The  last  words 
were  uttered  in  a subdued  tone.  This  done,  the  air 
was  continued  in  a fine  specimen  of  genuine  Yankee 
whistling,  intermingled  with  occasional  snatches 
from  ‘’China,”  or  “ Coronation.” 

It  was  only  a sample  of  Mr.  Tracy’s  railroad  tele- 
graphy, for  the  low  attic  of  his  shop,  filled,  in  part, 
with  bits  of  lumber  and  parts  of  defunct  wagons,  was 
an  important  station  and  it  frequently  became  neces- 
sary to  signal  the  waiting  passengers,  of  whom  nearly 
one-hundred,  according  to  the  family  reckoning, 
found  rest  and  protection  within  its  narrow  limits,  a 
fact  one  would  scarcely  believe  as  he  passes  it,  look- 
ing to-day  almost  identical  with  its  appearance  fifty 
years  ago. 

Notwithstanding  Hartford  is  a historic  anti-slavery 
town,  there  were  not  wanting  those  within  its  borders, 
who  for  “ the  recompense  of  reward,”  would  willingly 
have  divulged  the  presence  of  any  fugitives  in  keep- 
ing had  he  known  their  whereabouts.  It  was  to 
guard  against  this  class  of  persons  frequenting  his 
shop  that  the  old  wagon-maker  had  adopted  a 
musical  system  of  signalizing  those  in  his  care. 
When  any  danger  threatened,  and  silence  was 


182 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


imperative,  he  would  sing  a snatch  of  some  familiar 
hymn  or  whistle  its  air ; but  when  “ the  coast  was 
clear,”  Hail  Columbia  or  Yankee  Doodle  was  the  sig- 
nal for  “ unlimbering.” 

On  this  occasion  both  the  words  quoted  and  the 
whistling  of  “ Old  Hundred  ” were  considered  neces- 
sary as  a double  danger  signal,  for  only  three  nights 
before  there  had  climbed  the  narrow  ladder  in  the 
corner  of  the  shop,  drawn  it  up  and  let  down  a board, 
thus  completing  the  floor,  an  individual  filling  to  a 
“dot”  the  description  given  in  the  hand-bill  previ- 
ously referred  to,  and  which  was  already  liberally 
scattered  through  Eastern  Ohio  and  Western  Penn- 
sylvania. No  questions  had  been  asked  and  only 
necessary  instructions  and  provisions  given.  Thirty- 
six  hours  later  two  strangers  had  put  in  an  appear- 
ance in  the  quiet  town,  and  soon  avowed  themselves 
as  in  quest  of  the  subject  of  the  reward  offered. 

They  had  continued  to  lounge  about  the  village 
till  this  Saturday  afternoon,  much  of  the  time  in  un- 
comfortable proximity  to  the  Tracy  wagon-shop,  for 
they  claimed  the  object  of  their  search  had  been  seen 
approaching  it,  and  they  were  even  now  directly  in 
its  front  in  the  highway,  holding  a coloquy  with 
Dudley,  the  junior  Tracy,  and  at  present,  1894,  the 
inheritor  of  his  father’s  trade  and  shop.  “ Dud,”  as 
he  is  familiarly  called,  was  then  a strapping  boy  in 
his  middle  teens,  bare-fooced,  without  coat  or  vest, 
tow-headed,  and  to  all  appearances  a fine  subject  for 
an  interview. 


THE  TKACY  WAGON  SHOP. 


SLAVE  PEN  IN  ATLANTA,  GA. 

(PHOTOGRAPHED  WHILST  GEN,  SHpRMAN’S  ARMY  HELD  THE  CITY.) 


GEORGE  GRAY. 


183 


“ See  here,  boy,”  said  one  of  the  strangers,  “ have 
you  seen  anything  of  a young  nigger  about  here 
within  a day  or  two  ? ” 

“ What  do  you  mean,  one  of  them  black  fellers 
like  that’n  the  bill  tells  about  yonder?” 

“ Yes,  he’s  the  chap  we  want  to  find.” 

“ Wal,  no,  I hain’t  seen  no  such  feller,  but  I hearn 
about  him  two  or  three  days  ago.” 

“How?” 

“ Why  I was  a layin’  in  the  bushes  up  back  of  the 
church  and  the  Gen’ral  an’  Sam  Fuller  cum  along 
and  the  Gen’ral  sez  he,  £ Fuller,  that  boy’s  got  to  be 
got  off.  They’r  arter  him.’  ” 

“ Who’s  the  General?” 

“ Wal,  that’s  Mr.  Bushnell.  They  say  he  keeps 
some  of  them  black  ’uns  some  times.” 

“ Tell  us  what  they  said.” 

“ Wal,  Fuller  he  said,  ‘ What’s  going  to  be  done?’ 
and  the  Gen’ral  said,  ‘You  come  up  with  the  team 
after  dark  and  take  him  down  to  the  tow-path  that’s 
down  in  Pennsylvanee  and  tell  him  to  keep  north 
till  he  came  to  some  colored  fokeses  and  they’d  send 
him  to  Jehu  and  then  he’d  be  all  right.’  ” 

“ How  far  is  it  to  the  tow-path  ? ” 

“0  1 don’t  know;  that’s  on  the  canawl  where  they 
drive  the  hosses  hitched  to  the  boats,  an’  I never 
was  so  fur  from  hum.” 

There  was  some  farther  parlying,  seemingly  en- 
tirely satisfactory  to  the  strangers,  then  they  dropped 
a “ bit  ” into  Dud’s  hands,  and  under  the  influence 


184 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


of  spurs  two  horses  struck  out  briskly  for  the  land  of 
the  Pennymights. 

“Dud,  I say  Dud,  come  here  quick,”  called  the 
senior  Tracy  to  the  boy  who  stood  gazing  after  the 
rapidly  receding  forms  of  the  horsemen,  and  the 
junior  slowly  responded  to  the  call. 

As  soon  as  Dud  was  within  the  door  the  query  was 
raised,  “ What  did  the  gentlemen  want?” 

“ 0 nothing  much,  only  they  asked  me  if  I’d  seen 
the  nigger  advertised  on  the  hand-bill  yonder?” 

“Well,  what  did  you  tell  them  ? ” 

“ 0 not  much  ; I just  yawned  a little,  telling  them 
I heard  the  Gen’ral  tell  Mr.  Fuller  that  he  must  get 
the  boy  down  to  Clarksville  and  start  him  north  for 
Bishop,  who  would  get  him  to  the  lake.” 

“Why,  Dud,  what  a — ” 

“ Come  now,  dad,  no  accusations.  Didn’t  I just 
hear  you  tuning  your  gospel  melody  as  much  as  to 
say,  ‘ Keep  still  up  there,’  and  didn’t  I hear  you  tell 
mother  last  night,  when  you  thought  we  children 
were  asleep,  you  didn’t  know  what  to  do?  But  I did, 
and  I’ve  done  it  and  now  you  needn’t  try  to  keep  this 
thing  from  me  any  longer.  You’ve  thought  I don’t 
know  what’s  up,  but  I guess  I’ve  seen  the  last  twenty 
darkies  you’ve  holed  in  the  shop  and  Uncle  Sam  has 
taken  away,  and  now  that  I’ve  got  those  fellows  off, 
I think  you  can  afford  to  let  me  take  a hand  after 
this.” 

A look  of  astonishment,  mingled  with  satisfaction, 
overspread  the  countenance  of  Azel  Tracy  at  this 


GEORGE  GRAY. 


185 


revelation  of  the  fact  that  his  son  was  acquainted 
with  so  much  of  the  method  of  the  road , a thing  of 
which  he  and  many  another  parent,  for  prudential 
reasons,  tried  to  keep  their  children  in  ignorance,  and 
taking  the  hand  of  the  boy  he  replied,  “You  shall 
have  all  the  hand  in  it  you  wish,  my  son.” 

The  sun  had  dropped  below  the  western  horizon 
when  the  aforesaid  bare-footed  boy  might  have  been 
seen  making  his  way  eastward  to  the  home  of  farmer 
Fuller,  bearing  the  following  note: 

48  to  IOOI. 

Dud  has  cooked  the  goose.  The  feathers  are  left— they  are 
good  for  Fennland,  and  the  parson  needs  a text  for  to- 
morrow. The  loft  is  good— the  cellar  better. 

Leza. 

As  a result  of  this  note,  when  darkness  had  settled 
down  upon  the  earth,  when  candles  were  extin- 
guished alike  in  farm  house  and  village  home,  the 
old-fashioned  buggy  of  Samuel  Fuller  stood  before 
the  little  Hartford  shop,  and  Dud,  the  Caucassian, 
surrendered  his  seat  to  an  African  of  deepest  sable, 
and  soon  the  vehicle  was  speeding  rapidly  north- 
ward. 

III. 

Night,  sable  goddess,  had  let  her  curtains  down 
not  only  upon  a day,  but  upon  a week  of  toil,  for  the 
“ Cotter’s  Saturday  Night  ” had  come  to  all  alike,  and 
the  good  people  of  Gustavus,  Ohio,  had  been  several 
hours  in  the  Land  of  Nod;  the  dome  on  the  old 
academy  and  the  spires  of  the  village  churches  were 


1 86  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

already  casting  moonlight  shadows  eastward,  and 
good  old  Parson  Fenn  was  dreaming  of  “ Seven- 
teenthly  ” in  to-morrow’s  sermon,  when  there  came 
three  distinct  raps  upon  his  back  door.  Such  signals 
were  in  no  wise  unusual  to  him,  and  he  immediately 
responded  to  the  call,  only  to  find  there  a friend 
from  fifteen  miles  away,  and  beside  him  a dusky 
figure  crouching  and  trembling  as  if  fearful  of  the 
moonbeams  themselves. 

“ There’s  no  time  to  be  lost,  Parson,”  said  he  from 
without.  “ The  hounds  are  on  the  track  of  this 
game.  It  has  only  been  by  the  most  indefatigable 
energy  that  he  has  been  kept  from  their  grasp  from 
the  Ohio  to  near  here.  Even  now  they  are  abreast 
of  us,  only  lured  across  the  Pennsylvania  line.” 

“ He  can  be  gotten  no  farther  to-night,”  said  the 
Parson  musingly,  “ and  all  we  can  do  is  to  put  him 
in  hold  and  keep  him  till  the  day  goes  by.  You 
know  the  rest.” 

There  was  no  word  of  reply,  hut  a figure  gliding 
silently  into  the  street,  a vehicle,  with  muffled  wheels, 
was  headed  southward  and  driven  rapidly  away. 
The  parson  having  partially  dressed  himself,  took  a 
jug  of  water  from  the  well,  a loaf  of  bread  and  a 
large  slice  of  meat  from  the  pantry  and  beckoning 
the  silent  figure  to  follow  him,  proceeded  to  a build- 
ing on  the  northwest  corner  of  the  square,  on  the 
front  of  which  appeared  the  name,  “George  Hezlip.” 
Passing  to  the  rear,  he  pushed  aside  a door.  Both 
having  entered,  the  door  was  closed,  a light  struck 


GEORGE  GRAY. 


I87 


and  the  strange  figure  was  soon  reposing  in  one  of 
several  hogsheads  carelessly  stowed  away  there, 
whilst  good  Benjamin  Fenn  returned  to  his  bed  only 
to  ponder  on  that  mysterious  providence  which  had 
predestined  him  to  this  materialistic  work  of  salva- 
tion. 

The  Sabbath  came,  and  with  it,  at  the  appointed 
hour,  the  people  to  the  village  church.  The  pastor 
preached  with  great  power  from  the  words,  “ Pro- 
claim liberty  throughout  the  land,  to  all  the  inhabi- 
tants thereof.” 

That  sermon  was  long  a matter  of  comment  among 
the  people,  a balm  to  some,  a firebrand  to  others,  ac- 
cording to  the  political  faith  they  entertained,  but 
orthodox  to  us  all  after  the  lapse  of  many  years. 

The  services  ended  and  dinner  over,  the  Parson  sat 
down  to  his  study-table  and  penned  the  following: — 

5 — 9 — 081 — 1001 — S s g. 

XXX.  In  Rome  when  the  white  rabbit  hangs  high  the 
Praetor  leads  the  Vestal  band  by  linden  fields,  that  he  may 
hear  the  tuning  of  the  great  profaner’s  voice  ere  the  game 
goes  to  Quintus  Anno  Mundi. 

49 — 1001 — U.g.r.r. 

The  note  thus  written,  was  sealed  and  given  to  a 
trusty  lad  who  soon  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  an  ath- 
lect,  theological  nimrod  living  in  the  village,  whose 
love  of  humanity  and  admiration  for  universal  re- 
demption were  only  equalled  by  that  of  his  affection 
for  his  dog,  his  gun  and  fishing  tackle.  When  he 
had  read  the  note,  he  bade  the  messenger  tell  the 


i88 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


Parson  “ When  the  stars  are  out,”  and  proceeded  at 
once  to  change  his  Sunday  garb  for  a hunting  suit. 

The  bell  had  already  rung  for  the  evening  service, 
and  the  villagers  and  the  country  folk  were  throng- 
ing to  the  church  when  two  horsemen,  on  jaded 
steeds,  came  down  from  the  north  and  reigned  up  at 
the  tavern  across  from  Hezlip’s  store  and  requested 
refreshments  for  themselves  and  horses.  The  ani- 
mals were  taken  in  charge  by  the  hostler  whilst  the 
riders  proceeded  to  the  bar-room  and  washed  and 
cleaned  themselves  from  the  effects  of  their  dusty 
ride. 

Waiting  supper,  they  had  a private  interview  with 
the  landlord  in  which  they  stated  that  they  were  in 
pursuit  of  a young  negro  who  had  crossed  the  Ohio 
river  a few  days  before  and  been  secreted  by  an  old 
Quaker.  They  had  traced  him  as  far  north  as  Hart- 
ford. There  they  had  been  decoyed  into  Pennsyl- 
vania whilst  they  believed  that  the  fugitive  had  been 
run  into  a line  farther  west.  After  going  as  far  north 
as  Espyville  they  had  come  across  to  see  if  they  could 
not  regain  the  trail. 

They  were  informed,  in  return,  that  there  were 
persons  in  the  neighborhood  in  the  employ  of  the 
Underground  Railroad,  of  whom  the  old  Parson  was 
the  chief,  and  that  it  was  thought  from  the  energy 
with  which  he  had  preached  that  morning  that  there 
must  be  a passenger  somewhere  about.  At  the  least, 
Boniface  assured  the  officials,  for  such  they  had 
avowed  themselves,  that  after  supper  he  would  show 


GEORGE  GRAY. 


189 


them  one  of  the  company’s  waiting  rooms  which  he 
had  accidentally  discovered. 

Twilight  had  deepened  into  evening ; the  “ Gus- 
tavus  House  ” bell  was  ringing  refreshments  for  two, 
and  Parson  Fenn  was  praying  fervently,  “ Lord,  send 
sure  deliverance  to  him  that  fleeth  from  oppression, 
and  bring  to  naught  the  efforts  of  them  that  pursue 
for  blood  money,”  just  as  a square-rigged  form,  with 
elastic  step,  and  showing  great  power  of  endurance 
stepped  into  the  rear  of  the  Hezlip  building.  Shov- 
ing open  the  door  the  man  uttered  a low  whistle 
which  was  immediately  responded  to,  and  a dusky 
form  emerged  from  one  of  the  hogsheads  and  fol- 
lowed the  leader  without  a word.  Passing  through 
the  fields  a short  distance,  they  crossed  the  public 
highway  beyond  the  churchyard  and  took  to  the 
woods  on  the  right.  With  rapid  strides  they  passed 
across  fields  and  through  forests  for  several  miles  un- 
til, leaving  the  little  hamlet  of  Lindenville  to  the 
right,  they  descended  to  the  Pymatuning  flats  where 
the  guide  deposited  his  ward  in  one  of  those  little 
“ hay  barns,”  so  common  on  the  Reserve  forty  years 
ago.  Returning  by  the  home  of  the  owner,  whom 
he  signaled  at  his  bedroom  window,  he  left  the  la- 
conic instruction,  “Feed  the  yearling  steer,”  and 
pressed  rapidly  on  to  regain  his  home,  which  he  did 
shortly  after  midnight. 

Supper  ended  at  the  tavern,  the  host  took  a lantern 
and  led  his  guests  across  the  street  to  the  basement 
of  the  store,  where  the  jug,  emptied  of  its  contents, 


190  FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 

and  fragments  of  the  bread  and  meat  were  readily 
found,  and  an  accidental  application  of  the  hand  to 
the  inner  surface  of  the  extemporized  bed-room 
showed  it  still  warm  from  the  contact  of  human 
flesh. 

The  language  which  escaped  the  foiled  pursuers 
wyhen  they  found  how  near  they  had  probably  been 
to  the  object  of  their  pursuit,  was  far  more  forcible 
than  classic.  They  would  have  instituted  a pursuit 
at  once  but  Boniface  told  them  such  a thing  would 
be  useless  there,  for  the  old  Parson,  who  was  ex- 
pounding Calvanism  across  the  way,  and  a young 
Universalist  in  the  village,  who  were  perfectly  at 
logerheads  on  matters  of  theology,  were  so  in  unison 
on  the  matter  of  running  off  fugitives  that  they  would 

make  it  hotter  than for  any  one  who  should 

assist  them,  as  the  most  of  the  community  were  on 
the  side  of  the  “ road.”  He  advised  that  they  go  to 
Ashtabula,  where  the  runaway  wTould  probably  take 
boat  for  Canada,  as  their  best  plan. 

This  advise  they  accepted,  and  after  a night’s  rest 
and  some  observations  made  about  the  village  in  the 
morning,  they  departed  northward,  and  in  due  time 
drew  up  at  the  “ American  ” in  Jefferson  where  their 
presence  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  a “ road 
official.” 

Having  breakfast,  our  liberal  theologian  sauntered 
through  the  village,  taking  in  the  dimensions  of  the 
strangers  and  noting  their  departure  northward,  then, 
waiting  until  the  sun  had  passed  the  meridian,  he 


GEORGE  GRAY. 


191 

took  his  gun  upon  his  shouldar  and  struck  eastward 
as  though  meaning  to  make  the  Kinsman  forests. 
Reaching  a convenient  point,  he  changed  his  course, 
and  an  hour  before  sunset  threw  down  a half  dozen 
squirrels  upon  the  doorstep  of  the  man  whose  slum- 
bers he  had  disturbed  the  previous  night.  There 
was  a little  good-natured  parleying  as  to  who  should 
dress  the  game,  then  busy  hands  were  at  work,  and 
as  the  sun  sank  behind  the  western  woodlands  the 
family  and  hunter-guest  sat  down  to  a feast  that 
would  have  tempted  the  appetite  of  a king. 

Supper  over,  the  guest  challenged  the  host  to  take 
him  to  an  appointment  he  had  a few  miles  north, 
which  was  acceded  to,  and  whilst  the  latter  was  get- 
ting ready  the  former  went  on  the  way  a little  to 
look  after  a trap  he  had  set  sometime  before.  An 
hour  later  and  a vehicle  with  two  men  in  the  seat 
and  a straw-covered  bundle  beneath  was  driven 
rapidly  towards  Jefferson.  Arrived  within  a mile  of 
the  town,  a halt  was  called  under  cover  of  a little 
clump  of  trees,  one  of  the  men  alighted  and  stirred 
up  the  straw  from  which  emerged  a human  figure. 
These  two  took  a field  path  to  the  village,  whilst  the 
driver  turned  a little  out  of  the  public  highway  to 
await  returns. 

Twenty  minutes  later  there  was  a rap  at  the  side 
door  of  bluff  Ben  Wade’s  home. 

“ Who  the  d — 1 is  there  ? ” said  a gruff  voice  from 
an  upper  window. 

“ 1 Thribble  X ’ from  ‘ A Thousand  and  One,’  ” was 
the  quick  response. 


192 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


“What  the  h — 1 do  you  want  at  this  time  of 
night.” 

“ I have  a white  rabbit.” 

“ Take  the  black  k — ss  to  Atkins ; he’ll  stuff  his 
hide.” 

A half  hour  more  and  the  “ white  rabbit  ” was 
stowed  in  the  capacious  garret  of  “Anno  Mundi  ” 
and  “ Thribble  X ” was  being  driven  at  a gay  pace 
toward  the  confines  of  Old  Trumbull. 

IV. 

A company  of  persons  awaiting  a western  bound 
train  stood  chatting  with  the  veteran  Seely  upon  the 
platform  at  Girard,  Pa.  Among  them,  evidently  well 
up  in  the  sixties,  was  a man  of  unusually  muscular 
frame.  His  countenance  was  open  and  pleasant,  but 
mostly  enveloped  in  a heavy  beard  of  almost  snowy 
whiteness.  Judging  from  the  appearance  of  his  eyes, 
he  was  endowed  with  a more  than  average  gift  of 
language.  Indeed  he  was  the  central  figure  in  the 
company.  The  “ Toledo  ” rolled  up  and  as  the 
group  passed  into  the  coach  a colored  man  seated  a 
little  back  took  a close  survey  of  this  individual.  As 
they  seated  themselves  in  his  rear,  the  negro  arose, 
passed  to  the  front  of  the  car  and  turning  round 
placed  his  eyes  squarely  upon  the  face  of  the  old 
gentleman.  Thus  he  stood  until  Springfield  was 
passed,  until  Conneaut  was  nearly  reached.  Feeling 
annoyed  himself,  and  noticing  that  the  gaze  was  at. 
tracting  the  attention  of  his  fellow  passengers,  the 
gentleman  arose  and  going  forward  said  : 


GEORGE  GRAY. 


193 


“ Stranger,  let  us  have  this  out.  I can  tolerate  this 
impertenence  no  longer.” 

“ No  ’pertenence,  massa,  no’  pertinence  at  all,”  re. 
sponded  the  negro,  “ I knowed  yer  the  minit  yer 
commed  aboard.” 

“You  know  me?  I never  saw  you  before  that  I 
remember.” 

“ Bery  like,  bery  like,  massa,  you’s  named  Ship- 
man,  and  doan  yer  remember  the  ‘ white  rabbit  ’ yer 
crawled  on  the  hands  and  knees  wid  through  the 
tater  patch  arter  you’d  got  him  out  of  the  cellar  whar 
the  old  Parson  had  stowed  him.  Dis  chile  hab  never 
forgot  that  face  though  it  had  no  whiskers  then.  The 
Lor’  bress  yer,  massa,  doan  yer  member  so  long 
ago  ? ” and  the  oveqoyed  man  held  out  his  hand 
which  was  grasped  in  a hearty  shake  by  that  of  his 
whiter  brother. 

Seating  themselves  together,  the  colored  man  told 
the  story  of  his  early  servitude,  and  how,  armed  with 
no  weapon  but  a butcher  knife  for  defense,  he  had 
made  that  long  flight  across  the  mountains  without 
one  sense  of  fear  until  he  had  crossed  into  Ohio  and 
learned  that  men  were  there  watching  for  him  to 
claim  the  reward  offered  for  his  return. 

“ But  how,”  queried  the  venerable  Shipman,  “ did 
you  get  along  after  I left  you?  ” 

“ Lor’  bress  you,  massa,  de  next  mornin’  that  ole 
swearer,  Massa  Wade,  he  corned  over  to  dat  Massa 
Atkins  an’  he  say,  ‘ Doan  sen’  dat  black  k — ss  to  de 
harb'r,  kase  h — ll’s  a watchin’  for  him.’  So  dey  sen 


194 


FROM  DIXIE  TO  CANADA. 


me  on  anuder  road  to  Erie  an’  put  me  on  the 
‘ Thomas  Jefferson,’  the  name  of  that  great  author  of 
liberty  from  ole  Virginy,  and  soon  I was  safe  in 
Canidy.” 

“ And  what  then?  ” said  Uncle  Charley. 

“ An’  den,  Massa  Shipman,  George  Gray  went  to 
work  to  earn  money  to  buy  his  old  mother,  but  when 
he  had  enough  he  learned  she  was  dead,  so  he  bought 
him  a little  home,  and  then  the  great  wah  corned 
and  set  all  his  people  free,  an’  so  now  he’s  jus’  agoin’ 
down  inter  that  country  to  see  if  Massa  Jones  hab 
eber  heard  from  dat  ‘deah  chile’  who  was  ‘drown,’ 
or  ‘ killed  hisself’  or  ‘ runned  away.’  But  here  am 
my  stoppin’  place,  an’  may  the  good  Lor’  bress  and 
save  Massa  Shipman  forever,  am  the  prayer  ob  de 
White  Rabbit.” 

There  was  another  hearty  hand-shaking,  amid  the 
cheerings  of  the  little  throng  who  had  been  attentive 
listeners  to  the  conversation,  mutual  pledges  to  meet 
on  the  “ other  shore,”  and  the  old  ex-conductor  from 
“station  1001,  U.  g.  r.  r.,”  and  his  sable  passenger 
parted  company  under  far  pleasanter  circumstances 
than  they  did  in  the  long  ago  on  the  door-step  of 
Anno  Mundi  in  the  village  home  of  Giddings  and 
Wade. 


